Young and Young at Heart
by Jaded X Gamer
Summary: An ongoing revision of Season 2 of Telltale's Walking Dead Game focused on a nine and a half year old Clementine attempting to come to terms with her grief and guilt over what happened in Savannah while struggling to overcome new dangers with the help of a still pregnant Christa and her new friend Sarah. Currently covers events up through "In Harm's Way". Cover art by: Albaharu.
1. All That Remains

Clementine tightened her grip on the gun, desperately trying to stop her hands from shaking. She watched in terror as the distant figures silhouetted in the morning sun grew bigger with every passing second. They were both moving too fast to be walkers. They were people, and they were hurrying towards her. The small girl reluctantly put her finger on the trigger, ready to squeeze it just like Lee had taught her. She had already shot two people, and hated doing it each time, but she readied herself to do it again if she had to.

"Clementine?" called a woman's voice.

"Christa?" answered Clementine.

"Clementine!" shouted a man's voice.

"Omid!" There was no doubt in Clem's mind now. She started racing towards the pair as fast as her legs would carry her. The couple came into focus as they reached the bottom of the hill, causing Clem to run even harder. She probably ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life, as if they'd cease to exist if she didn't reach them soon. Clementine could actually see their faces now. Excited and scared at the same time, much like her. Just as Clementine closed the distance she dropped her gun and threw out her arms in an attempt to hug the duo. She stumbled and instead grabbed onto one of Christa's legs by mistake. It did little to change Clem's intentions, who started squeezing that leg for dear life.

"Clementine! Thank god!," exclaimed Christa. "Are you okay?"

"No," whimpered Clem as she clung to the woman's leg.

"What happened?" Omid knelt down next to traumatized girl and placed his hand on her arm. "That guy on the radio. Did he…" Omid pulled back his hand and noticed it was covered in blood. "The hell? Why are you covered in... Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," sobbed Clementine. "I'm just… I'm just…"

"It's okay Clem." Christa gently pried Clementine off and then knelt down to speak with her face to face. "You don't have to say any more. We understand."

"Yeah, it'd be pretty messed up if you were okay after what's happened actually," commented a sympathetic Omid. "So, feel free to not act okay all you want."

"Lee told me to meet you by the train, but..."

"It was swarmed," finished Christa. "We saw it too."

"It was like zombiepalooza had come to town on the rails," added Omid. "So we just started moving in the opposite direction."

"Figuring if you were still alive, you'd think to do the same," added Christa. "We had no idea where to start looking, so we just started walking and…"

"We're just really glad we found you," summarized Omid.

"Me too." Clementine looked around, searching for more familiar faces. "Where's Ben?" she asked, trying not to snivel. "And Kenny?" Christa and Omid briefly exchanged glances.

"Clementine, they…" Christa struggled to find the words as she saw the horror on Clementine's face as she realized what's happened. "It's… It's just us Clem."

"Oh." Clem said in a resigned tone, as if she had been expecting this.

"And… I'm guessing it's just you?" Clementine nodded softly. "What about the man on the radio? Did he…"

"He's dead," announced Clementine. "Just like Lee. And my parents. And…" Clem trailed off, choked with despair.

"I'm so sorry Clem." Christa gently placed her hand on Clem's shoulder.

"It's all gone," whispered Clem in a sad voice. "Everything." The pair gazed at the heart broken girl, unable to speak for a moment.

"Actually," said Omid, breaking the silence. "We did manage to salvage one thing before we left Savannah." Omid offered a familiar looking backpack to Clementine. "Grabbed it before we came after you. Purple with yellow and pink flowers looks good, it just doesn't look good on me." Clem took the pack without a word. She studied it momentarily, then removed something from her hoodie's pocket. Clem had pocketed her radio before leaving the Marsh House. She carefully placed it in the pack.

"And you should hold onto this." Christa handed the gun Clem dropped back to her. She put her backpack on, then grasped the gun in her hand. "We should get moving. Hopefully we can find somewhere safe to rest before nightfall."

"But if you feel like you need to stop, just say so," assured Omid.

"I… I just want to go," pleaded Clem.

"All right. But if you need anything. Just…"

"I just want to go," repeated Clem. "I just want to go."

"Okay," said Christa, not wanting to push the matter any farther. "Let's go." Clementine started walking, and then just kept walking for what felt like hours. She could occasionally hear Omid and Christa talking, sometimes to her, but Clem just couldn't make out the words. Her mind felt clouded and she could only focus on moving forward, following Omid and Christa's lead. Occasionally they'd stop, telling Clem some kind of warning she couldn't entirely hear, then they'd start moving again. Clementine kept marching ahead as if she was in a trance, unaware of her surroundings.

Sometime before sunset the trio found an abandoned gas station to take refuge in. After clearing the inside, Omid motioned to Clem to join them. There were some canned goods and a few other items strewn across the floor. Christa was busy collecting anything useful while Omid worked on opening some of the cans. He offered the first to Clem, apologizing for the complete lack of any eating utensils.

Clementine hadn't even noticed she was hungry until Omid had offered her that can. And even now, it seemed so unimportant to Clem that it was merely instinct that motivated her to eat instead of any actual desire to. She just scooped handfuls of food right out of the can and into her mouth out of habit, barely tasting it. At some point, Christa had set a bottle of water next to Clem. Just like whatever she was eating, Clem instinctively drank the water, not deriving any actual comfort from doing so.

As she was eating, Christa and Omid would occasionally speak to Clementine. Asking how she was, if she needed anything, and what happened before they found her. But their questions just passed through the young girl, her mind in such a haze that she wasn't even processing what they were saying. Realizing the futility of speaking to Clementine at this time, the couple divided their attention between watching Clem and surveying their surroundings.

Clementine could see them moving through out the store, occasionally trading places so that at least one of them could sit with her, but Clem wasn't really looking at them. To Clem, everything just seemed to blur together as one unremarkable image that never seemed to come into focus. Eventually, Christa and Omid were prompting Clem to follow them.

They led the girl to the bathrooms and explained to her that they had fixed one up to be her room for the night. Clem pushed open the door and noticed a crude bed sat in the middle of the room, built out of folded cardboard boxes and cut up foam drink holders. Christa's jacket served as a blanket and a couple of bags of likely stale caramel corn were set out like pillows. There were a few candles lit on opposite corners of the room as well as some containers of food and water stacked against the back wall.

"It's not exactly the roomiest of accommodations, but you can't beat the price," joked Omid.

"Omid and I are going to take turns keeping watch tonight," informed Christa. "You just get some sleep sweetie."

"Yeah, been a helluva couple of days," added Omid in a more concerned tone.

"And if you need anything, you can just ask us. You know that Clem." Clem nodded weakly at Christa, then shuffled into the room without a word. The door closed behind her, leaving Clementine somewhere dark and quiet. She instinctively sat down on the primitive bed, then just remained there for a moment, unsure what to do next.

After a few minutes of peace, Clem's senses started coming back to her. She suddenly realized her right hand hurt. Clem had been holding her gun all day, not even bothering to set it down while eating. She placed it on the ground, then started rubbing her swollen knuckles.

The next thing Clem became aware of was a horrid smell. The bloody hoodie she had worn to slip past the herd had festered in the midway sun. Clem threw her backpack off then pulled the rancid piece of fabric over her head as fast as she could. The smell nearly made Clem sick, but looking at the garment actually made her angry. Just seeing the lettering on the front was more than she could stand. Clementine threw the filthy thing aside as hard as she could, sending it flying into a corner. She never wanted to look at it again.

Clementine's attention turned to her backpack next. She slowly unzipped it and reached inside, retrieving the radio her mother had given her. She used to talk to her parents on it during late nights when she had trouble sleeping and they weren't ready for bed. But they were gone now. Clem flipped the radio over and pried open the back. She hastily yanked the batteries out of the device and threw them against the wall, landing them right on top of the discarded hoodie.

Clementine couldn't quite bear to throw away the radio itself though. She had no intentions of ever using it again, but she still wanted to keep it. She put the battery compartment back on and set it down, noticing the stickers on it as she did so. Ben had found her those stickers. She had remembered how happy it made her to use those to decorate her radio, to mark it as distinctly hers. It had been only a few days and yet it already felt like so long ago.

Her eyes wandered back to her gun. It had been Lee's gun before. And it was the same one he used when he taught her how to shoot. And before that it had been Carley's gun. The same one she used to save Lee from the walker in the drugstore. It was also the same gun used to shoot both Carley and Lee. Remembering that, Clem pulled her hair scrunchies off, the same ones Lilly had given her. She looked at them for a moment, then simply tossed them in a pile with the gun and the radio.

Clem reached in her backpack again and pulled out of a piece of paper this time. It was her drawing of Kenny, Katjaa and Duck. She could barely look at it without crying. Clem immediately set it aside and grabbed the other drawing in her backpack. This one was of Lee, and Clementine couldn't look away. She tried stifling her own cries as her eyes began to tear up. She could still see his face in her mind, before and after she killed him.

Barely able to contain herself, Clementine set the drawing down, whimpering to herself in the dark. The small pile of items at her feet was all she had left of almost everyone she had ever known. The memories of them still fresh in Clementine's mind, as was the realization that they were all gone now. Clem finally couldn't stand it anymore and turned away.

She rolled over onto her makeshift bed, hoping she could just forget about the world for a short time. She arranged the bagged caramel corn to rest her head on and pulled Christa's jacket over her body. She was about to close her eyes, when she spotted her hat. She hadn't even realized it wasn't on her head anymore. It must have been knocked off when she took the hoodie off.

Clementine reached out for it, her hand trembling the entire way. She carefully picked it up off the ground and brought it to her face. It was just a simple baseball cap, but her father had given it to her the day before he left with her mother to go to Savannah. And Lee had brought it back to her just before she left Savannah.

After months of wondering what happened to them, Clementine finally saw her mom and dad again, as two more faces in a sea of the dead. And then she was forced to watch the same thing happen to the closest thing she had left to family. And when that became too much, she had to shoot the very same man who had kept her alive and cared for her in her's parents absence. Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

Clementine clutched her cap to her chest for dear life as tears gushed out of her eyes and onto the ground. She started bawling so hard and so loud for so long she could barely breath. Her entire body seemed to quiver in agony as she sobbed uncontrollably. And anytime she felt like she was ready to stop, the image of someone else she had lost would flash into her mind, and start the entire miserable cycle all over, until Clementine was so exhausted she finally just passed out.


	2. Yet Another Day

Clementine opened her eyes. Much to her disappointment, she was in her room. Slowly she sat up and surveyed her surroundings, but all she saw was the same old bed room she saw every morning since Christa and Omid had found this isolated cabin in the woods for them to stay in. Clementine wasn't really expecting anything else, yet she did a quick inventory of the room's contents anyways.

There were a couple of books on the dresser that Clem had finished reading months ago. Next to them was an old instant camera that Omid had found her before moving out here. It only had a couple of shots left, but Clementine couldn't think of anything she wanted to photograph. Past that was an old pad of paper nearly full of half finished leaf rubbings and sloppy doodles Clem had made to pass the time. As she ran out of paper though she lost interest in it and as such the last few pages are simply blank. Other than a change of clothes in the dresser and her backpack in the corner, the room was bare.

Seeing nothing of interest, Clementine rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. She tried pulling her pillow over her eyes to block out the sunlight coming in from the windows, but even with her eyes closed it was futile. Knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, Clementine took a deep breath and crawled out of bed. She put her shoes on, placed her hat on her head, and headed down the stairs. As she crossed through the living room she could hear Christa and Omid in the kitchen.

"What do you think?" asked Omid in his typical enthusiastic manner.

"Omid, you can't be serious," answered a bemused Christa.

"I am," he insisted.

"We are not doing that," she asserted.

"Why not?"

"Because. It's ridiculous." The couple's attention turned to Clementine as she silently sat down at the table.

"Look who's finally up," commented Omid.

"Sleep well?" Clem didn't respond to Christa's question. "Bad dream again?" Clementine just couldn't find the energy to answer Christa's concerns.

"I'm sorry Clem," said Omid as he set a plate in front of Clementine. "Also, sorry we still don't have anything better on the menu." Clementine looked down at her breakfast. It was a couple of small pieces of dried fish leftover from yesterday, a mushroom foraged from the forest and a cup of water. The same thing she had been eating for weeks now.

Clementine tried not thinking how much better the canned goods they had in the first few weeks were than the gristly piece of trout she was chewing on. Taking a bite out of the mushroom just reminded her how they use to be able to find berries ant nuts before the winter set in.

"I was thinking we could work a little more on your knot tying today," suggested Christa. "If you felt up to it." Since settling in the cabin, Clementine had found herself being tutored in a variety of odd things ranging from purifying water to identifying edible plants. Knots were just the latest topic in this series of ongoing lessons from Christa. Clementine didn't like these lessons, but there was so little for her to do she never felt the urge to object either.

"Okay." Clem shrugged then turned back to her plate, only to grimace at what she saw. "What were you talking about just now?" asked Clem, desperately looking for anything to take her mind off food.

"Oh, nothing, just that the egomaniac here wants to name our baby after himself," surmised Christa.

"Come on, what's wrong with Omid?" he asked in a mostly sincere tone.

"We're not calling our baby Omid. One of you is enough," she retorted.

"Omid the second," suggested Omid.

"No."

"Omid junior."

"No." Clementine looked at Christa's belly and still found it hard to believe how big it had gotten. She had talked with Christa and Omid about their baby from time to time over the winter, being one of the only topics of interest in this home. But it always seemed like something distant until recently, and only now Clem was starting to think of what it was going to be like to have someone new in their home.

"What if it's a girl?" wondered Clem out loud.

"Then we name her Christa," proposed Omid.

"I'm Christa. I don't want to call her Christa. That's just confusing."

"Then we give her a nickname," reasoned Omid. "Chrissy, Chris, C.J."

"C.J.?"

"Christa Junior," explained Omid. "Admit it, it's got a nice ring to it."

"You're not taking this seriously," realized Christa.

"Hey, I take everything seriously," assured Omid. "Especially little Omid's future."

"Well then, as long as we're on the topic of the future, I think we should make a supply run to the nearest town before the baby arrives."

"I thought you wanted to go after?" reminded Omid. "I mean, that's a lot of walking for someone as pregnant as you."

"We've used up a lot of what we brought out here just getting through the winter, more than I would have thought, and we're going to need more still after the baby. So if we don't do it now, we'd either have to take the baby with us after it's born, or one of us would have to stay here with it. I'd rather not split us up like that, and it'd be even riskier to take a baby along on something like this."

"I see your point, but are you sure you're up for this?" asked a concerned Omid. "Nearest town is probably at least a couple of days from here."

"That's why I want to get a start on it soon, while we've still got some time. We should pack a few days worth of food and water, and next warm day all three us head north until we find somewhere that hasn't been looted too badly. We bring back as much as we can carry, and hopefully that'll be enough to hold us over until spring."

"Why north?" asked Clementine.

"The places we checked before we came out here were already pretty bare. So I figure it wouldn't do much good to go back the way we came. But Omid said he spotted a big bridge about a day's walk north of here once," explained Christa. "It's got to go somewhere."

"Unless it's one of the bridges to nowhere some congressmen insisted on building," suggested Omid.

"It's that or just pick a direction," reminded Christa.

"All right. North works for me," shrugged Omid. "But if we need to be commuting to live out here, why not just pack up and set-up shop in whatever town we find instead? Between becoming intimate with the term cabin fever, us having a baby on the way, and my active social life, it seems like we should just get out of the countryside and back towards what's left of civilization."

"No," dictated Christa. "What we have now works. There's almost no walkers this far out from the cities and we're getting enough from the stream and the forest to keep alive. We get the right tools and some seeds on this trip and we could grow our own food right here. We scavenge some other essentials and whatever we can find in the woods over the next season and we'll be ready for the next winter. Before long we'll be both safe and living well."

"Yeah, if you think 'before long' means more than a year," quipped Omid.

"I'm just saying, we're doing pretty well all things considered," reminded Christa. "We get the rights tools, and we'll do that much better. We act smart and keep at it, and eventually we'll have everything we need out here."

"Unless we actually need other people at some point," commented Omid in a less than affable tone.

"We don't need anyone else," insisted Christa. "The three of us can handle things as long as we're careful. Anyone else would just be inviting trouble."

"Oh really? Just the three of us?" Omid stood up and moved to Christa. "Did you hear that Omid Junior?" he asked Christa's stomach. "Your mom's got it out for you."

"You know what I meant," snapped Christa.

"You should probably make a run for it after you're born," continued Omid. "But in your case you might have to make a crawl for it instead."

"Shut up."

"Just head right out the birth canal and don't look back."

"Omid!"

"What?" Omid feigned innocence as Christa stood up. "I'm just trying to give the kid a heads up on what to expect."

"You always do this," accused Christa. "Anytime you start losing an argument, you turn everything into a joke to avoid the issue."

"Oh, I'm losing the argument?" asked an indignant Omid. "Because any time I want talk about even the remote possibility of ever trying to make contact with anyone left in the human race, you immediately come back with how everyone who's not us is a sadist rapist cannibal who tips poorly."

"It doesn't have to be everyone as long as there's some people out there who are like that," argued Christa.

"So it's more of a numbers game then? What's the acceptable lunatic to non-lunatic ratio for you?" retorted Omid. "Does everyone but one person have to be sane or is fifty-fifty okay?"

"Far as I'm concerned, as long as things stay the way they are, just one is too many to risk it."

"Well then, maybe we shouldn't trust Clementine even. Hell, she could be an axe murderer who's just really good at hiding it or something. You never know."

"Clementine is why we should avoid other people! Or did you forget what happened with the man on the radio?"

"No, I'm just not willing to throw everyone on Earth under the bus because of one crazy asshole."

"That one crazy asshole nearly got us all killed because of what he did, so forgive me if I'm not eager to look for others just because you're lonely," accused Christa. "We got lucky last time."

"Lucky? Clem being kidnapped was lucky?"

"We were lucky that's all he did to Clementine. Bad as it was, there are people who would do far worse to someone like her."

"Well that's a pleasant thought," remarked a sarcastic Omid. "Hey Clementine, did you hear…" Omid stopped mid-sentence when he looked over to see Clementine had covered her ears with her hands in a desperate attempt to not hear what they were saying. Christa saw it too and immediately moved to Clementine's side in response. Very gently she placed her hand on Clem's and slowly guided it away from her ear.

"It's okay. It's okay," repeated an apologetic Christa. "We're not fighting anymore."

"Yeah, yelling match's over," added an equally penitent Omid as he moved beside Clem. "And there's no encore. So, just relax." Clem moved her hands away from her head, but didn't say anything.

"We're so sorry Clem."

"What can we do to make it up to you?" Clementine just sat there, she didn't really have an answer to that question. Omid and Christa briefly exchanged glances, then Christa turned back to Clem.

"If you can think of anything, you just tell us. Okay sweetie?" Christa gently grasped Clementine's hand.

"In the mean time, I think I'll try to catch us lunch," suggested Omid. "Hopefully before dinner this time."

"The rod and cooler are in the shed, rifle's in our room." reminded Christa before turning back to Clementine. "And we can just skip our lesson for today." Clem stood up and shuffled towards the exit. "Wait." Clem turned to Christa. "How bout today you go with Omid?" she suggested. "Try your hand at fishing instead?"

"I thought you didn't want me going into the woods?" reminded Clementine.

"Well like I was saying, we're going to have to make a trip soon. So this can be like practice," reasoned Christa. "And, for better or worse, you'll be with Omid," joked Christa.

"It'll be better. I guarantee it." Clementine looked up at Omid, who smiled at her. She then looked back at Christa, who nodded softly at her. Leaving the cabin for a while did seem appealing. Clementine thought to herself for a moment, then gave them her answer.

"Okay," said Clem, almost managing a smile as she did.


	3. The Great Outdoors

"Now you're sure you have everything?" asked Christa.

"Yes," answered Clementine.

"You have your gun right?"

"Yeah, it's in my backpack."

"You sure you don't want to keep a gun here?" asked a concerned Omid.

"I'll be fine here. I want to be sure both of you can protect yourselves while you're out there," explained Christa. "Besides, Clementine might have to bail you out."

"Hey, I'm every bit as capable as a nine year old," said Omid with a smirk. "Maybe a little more even."

"Just be careful."

"Come on, you're acting like I don't do this every day." reminded Omid.

"Not with Clementine you don't," reminded Christa.

"I'll be careful," assured Clementine.

"Yeah, come on Christa. We'll be fine," assured Omid. "You stop worrying Clem so much, and she might actually have a little fun on this trip." Christa looked at the pair and smiled.

"All right, you two take care of each other."

"We will." Clementine nodded at Christa, then started following Omid into the forest. As the pair proceeded into the woods, Clementine briefly looked back and saw Christa waving goodbye to her just before disappearing from view. Clem looked up at Omid as they trekked forward.

"We've got quite the walk ahead of us, so I'd recommend taking advantage of one of the few perks of living in the woods, and enjoy the view." Clem heeded Omid's advice and took in her surroundings. It was a little cloudy and kinda cool out, but mostly a nice day. The trees were mostly bare, creating a sprawling mess of branches that obscured the sunrise. The dirt was hard from the cold, dotted with small traces of plant life that had survived the winter. The forest was also dead quiet. Clementine couldn't hear any insects or birds in the distance, and even the wind seemed remarkably restrained today. All in all, not a particularly uplifting sight for the troubled young girl.

"Sorry again about the fight," said Omid. "I guess being cooped up in a cabin all this time is getting to us. But still, we shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," said Clementine.

"Oh no, totally not okay," insisted Omid. "You file away that incident for later use. Consider it your own personal get out of jail free card next time Christa or yours truly is going on about something you don't like."

"Um, okay."

"In fact, you can even yell at me if you want," suggested Omid in a playful manner.

"That's okay."

"Are you sure? It usually makes Christa feel better when she's upset."

"I don't want any more yelling," stated Clementine.

"Yeah, I guess Christa and I did enough of that to last you for a while," realized Omid. "You know, Christa was serious when she said if you can think of anything you need, just name it."

"I know," said Clem. "I just can't think of anything."

"Really, nothing?"

"Nothing you could give me." Omid couldn't help but notice the dejected tone in Clem's voice as she told him that. He looked down at the girl and noted the grim expression on Clementine's face.

"Well, maybe you should tell us things you don't think we can get you then," suggested Omid.

"Why?" asked Clem.

"Because, we might surprise you," said Omid. "We are taking a trip to pick up some things soon. You never know what might turn up."

"I don't know."

"Come on, just pick something," urged Omid. "How about a pony? You want a pony?"

"No."

"How about a whole elephant?"

"No."

"What about a twelve foot ladder?"

"Why would I want a ladder?"

"So you can get on top of the elephant I'm getting you." Clementine chuckled at that comment. "Was that a laugh I just heard?"

"No," Clementine hastily denied.

"You sure about that?" asked a smug Omid.

"Well, maybe a little," admitted Clem.

"All right, you're trying to play it cool. I understand. Christa does the same thing," said Omid. "All though I don't think that'll last much longer. Once the baby is here she's gonna go all Lifetime original movie on us and start blubbering about how beautiful Omid Jr. is every time she looks at him."

"You really think so?" asked Clem.

"I hope so, because that's totally what I plan on doing when the big days arrives," confessed Omid. "If we both end up as crying messes, you might have to help out with little Omid, be like a big sister to him when we're to busy crying in joy."

"What could I do?" wondered Clementine.

"Lots of things. As Christa keeps reminding me, babies need constant attention. You gotta talk to them, and read to them, and play with them. You think you'd want to help us with any of that?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Clementine hadn't give much thought to what would happen after the baby was born. She never even considered what she would do with the baby, but now that Omid was suggesting it, Clem was starting to wonder. She never had a brother or sister of her own, but she always wanted one. Being a big sister might be nice, or fun even.

If nothing else, it gave Clementine something to consider on the long and otherwise uneventful walk through the forest. Eventually the pair did arrive at the stream Chirsta mentioned. Clem found it fairly underwhelming. In fact, it was so small, she was surprised Omid could actually fish in it.

"Well here it is, my little home away from home," announced Omid as he sat down at the bank.

"So, what happens now?" asked Clementine.

"Well, first I throw out my line." Clem watched as Omid cast, sending his hook and floater into the stream. They drifted with the current for a bit before running out of slack and settling in a spot just downstream of where they landed.

"Now what?" asked Clem.

"And now, we wait." Clementine watched the floater bob along in the water for a while before she let out a long sigh. "Yeah, usually not a lot happens after this."

"I guess I can get the water." Clementine went to collect one of the empty plastic jugs Omid had stored in his backpack.

"I'll give you a hand," offered Omid.

"Don't you have to wait for the fish?"

"One of the nice things about fishing?" Omid planted the rod in a small hole he had dug on a previous trip and piled a few rocks against the bottom of it to weigh it down. "You don't actually have to be there in person for most of it." Omid grabbed the other jug and the pair treaded towards the edge of the stream.

"You sure it's okay to just leave it there?" asked Clem.

"It's fine, I do this all the time," assured Omid. "As long as I stay close most of the fish barely get anywhere by the time I hear them pulling on the line." The pair dipped the jugs in the stream until they were full. Clem had trouble lifting the filled container, needing both hands to pull it out of the water.

"Just imagine carrying those every day," said Omid. "Literal pain in the back. All though, I will admit, it is good cardio."

"I hate being so little," admitted an aggravated Clementine.

"Oh come on, being little ain't so bad," said Omid. "Seem to remember you being little has come in handy on more than one occasion."

"Maybe before we came out here," reasoned Clementine. "There's no doors or windows for me to climb through in the woods."

"No but… You're closer to the ground than me," realized Omid. "Bet you're better at hunting for mushrooms and dead bugs than I am."

"Dead bugs?" asked Clem.

"I use them for bait," explained Omid. "And occasional improv performance art, but let's just keep that between you and me."

"Um... Okay."

"So, what do you say? Wanna hunt for bugs?"

"I think I stepped on a bug on the way here," informed Clementine.

"Really? Well check your shoe, maybe it's still there." Clem sat down and looked at the bottom of her feet. What appeared to be a beetle of some kind was stuck to the sole of one of her shoes.

"See what I mean, you're already outpacing me, and we haven't even started yet." Omid carefully peeled the dead insect off Clem's shoe.

"I didn't find it though. I just stepped on it," said Clem.

"Maybe you're a natural bug hunter," theorized Omid as he pulled his hook out of the water.

"I just got lucky."

"Maybe you're good luck." Clem sighed loudly as Omid baited the hook and tossed it back into the water. He returned to the shore where Clem was sitting silently. "Probably could use some more if you feel like looking for them." Clem didn't respond. "Something on your mind?" Omid could very easily tell something was bothering Clementine just from the look on her face. It was a look she seemed to wear all too often. "You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm right here, whenever you need me." Omid left Clementine to be alone with her thoughts and went to pack up the jugged water they had collected.

"It wasn't a bad dream." Omid turned to Clementine.

"What?"

"I didn't have a bad dream last night," said Clem. "It was a good dream."

"Really?" asked a curious Omid. "What about?"

"I was in my backyard, and my dad was pushing me on the swing. It's a really nice day and he kept pushing me higher and higher. Then I hear my mom calling my name, so I jump off the swing and run into the house. She's made all this really good food for lunch, and I just want to eat it all. But before I can, my mom says I need to wait for company. And before I can ask her who's coming, I see him coming down the stairs."

"Who?" asked Omid.

"Lee." Clem's eye seemed to light up upon saying Lee's name. "I ask him what he's doing here, and he says he's come over to help me with my homework. And I just want to run over and hug him…" Omid watched as whatever little joy Clementine had left seemed to drain right out of her. "But then I woke up."

"I'm sorry Clementine," said Omid.

"I keep having this dream," continued Clem. "And I think the same thing every time I wake up."

"What's that?"

"That I wish I hadn't."

"Clem..."

"I know I should be happy I'm alive, but I'm just not," confessed an ashamed Clementine. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, there's no reason to be sorry." Omid leaned in closer to Clem. "You've been through a lot, and it's not exactly like we're living in luxury at the moment either. You'd have to be crazy to be happy all the time with the things the way they are."

"You're happy all the time."

"That's because I am crazy. Ask Christa." Clem snickered a little in response. "And, I know it may not seem like it, but there's times where this stuff gets to me as well."

"Like this morning?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah," lamented Omid. "Again, sorry about that."

"It's okay," assured Clem. "You're still a lot more happy than me."

"Well I've had a lot more practice at it than you. Despite what Christa might tell you, it takes an awful lot of work for me to keep being me. Just one of the many crosses I have to bear," lamented Omid in a sarcastic tone. "But, being as crafty as I am, I've figured out some tricks that make it easier."

"Like what?"

"Right now I find it helps to think about what I'm gonna do when things get better."

"What if they don't get better?" asked Clem. "What if they get worse?"

"Things can always get worse, so no need to think about that. Least, not as long as we have Christa around to worry about it for us." Clem smirked in response. "Things get better though, you'll regret not having a plan because you'll miss out on a chance to do all the stuff you really like."

"Like what?" asked Clem. "What should I plan for?"

"Well, just for starters, you should be thinking about what you would like to get out of this upcoming trip Christa's talking about," suggested Omid. "I already got my plan all worked out. First town with a mall, I'm grabbing a shopping cart and loading it up with a new wardrobe, a boom box, my personal picks for the best of the seventies, enough batteries to last us until next year, a few bottles of fine wine for the special occasions, and some film for that camera I found you. I'm gonna want a lot of baby pictures. Oh, and a Cuisinart."

"What's a Cuisinart?"

"No idea," answered Omid.

"Then why do you want it?"

"To find out what it does," answered Omid. "Christa would never let me get one back before just because I didn't know what it did. And we didn't need it. And I'd probably break it. But, we see one now, I'm grabbing it. That's a mystery I'm finally putting to rest."

"You think Christa will let you do that?" asked Clem.

"Hey, what's this 'let me' talk? She doesn't control me." Clem seemed unconvinced. "Well, not control per se, but… Hey, what are you worrying about me for? You should be figuring out what you're going to get. Think about it, whole toy stores out there, probably untouched even, just waiting for you."

Clementine hadn't thought about toys in a long time, but she suddenly remembered a contest she heard about from before where whoever won would get ten minutes to grab whatever they wanted from a toy store. She had badly wanted to win that contest, and it dawned on her they she finally might if they found a toy store when they went out looking for supplies.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Omid had noticed the smile slowly forming on Clementine's face. "Food and bullets may be scarce lately, but there's probably no shortage of toys and games in the world right now. It's just a matter of finding them." Clem smiled at Omid.

"You're going to make a really good dad."

"You think so?" Omid was sincere in his question, possibly even a little surprised by what Clementine said. But only for a moment, then a familiar smirk emerged on his face. "Any chance I can get you to repeat that in front of Christa?"

"Maybe," answered a sly Clementine.

"But only with some incentive right?" asked Omid. "All right. I am gonna be a father soon. Bribing kids to do what I want is something I should work at," reasoned Omid. "You say what you said just now in front of Christa and when we make this run into town, I'll grab some of the stuff you want. Free you up to carry a little more."

"Some new books would be really nice," suggested Clem.

"Sure you don't want to borrow that guide to edible plants Christa keeps around?" suggested Omid. "Or maybe that pregnancy for dummies book she keeps making me re-read?"

"No," answered Clementine.

"Okay, new books it is. What's next?"

"Some crayons, or markers?"

"Why or? Take both. Now what else?"

"Well… No, it's stupid."

"You're talking to the guy who wants a Cuisinart just to find out what the hell it is. Come on. Spill it."

"Well, I really would like a new dress."

"I didn't want to say anything, but the one you've got on now, totally out of season," commented Omid.

"It's dirty and has holes in it," added Clem. "Also it doesn't fit like it used to."

"Well you are a growing girl," noted Omid. "And if you don't mind me saying, it is a little garish to wear the same thing every day. You should get a couple of dresses."

"You think Christa would be okay with that?"

"It's a few pieces of clothes. Someone's who going to make a really good dad like me should have no problem talking her into it. Right?" Omid winked at Clem.

"Oh." Clem realized what Omid was hinting at. "Yeah. You totally could."

"Sounds like we a have a deal," smiled Omid. "Just one little thing we have to do to make it official."

"What's that?"

"We gotta hug over it," insisted Omid in a playful voice. "A handshake just isn't enough for something like this." Clementine eagerly wrapped her arms around Omid, tenderly squeezing him as he patted her gently on the back.

"Sucker," quipped Omid. "I would have gotten you that stuff anyways."

"I was already going to tell Christa you'll make a great dad," retorted Clem.

"Well I guess we're both just a couple of suckers then." A splashing sound caught the pair's attention. They looked off in the distance and saw a walker clumsily wading towards them from upstream.

"I guess we can add moods to the list of things these guys kill," quipped Omid.

"Where did he come from?" wondered Clem.

"Every now and then I see one chasing the noises the stream makes. And as tempting as it is to watch them try and catch it, I'd rather they not fall in and muck up our drinking water or scare off all the fish," Omid stood up and removed a short hatchet from his backpack. "Wait here Clem, I'm gonna go greet our guest." Omid headed towards the still distant walker.

"Yo, dead head, over here." Clem watched as it moved out of the stream and shambled towards Omid. "Hey neighbor, mind lending me a bit of your scalp?" Omid brought the hatchet down into the walker's forehead. It collapsed onto the ground without another sound. It was then Clem heard an odd clicking sound. She turned her head and noticed the reel on Omid's fishing rod was moving. It clicked a few more times, then started spinning very quickly.

"Omid! Look!" Clem pointed to the rod.

"Oh, shit. Grab it Clem!" Clementine ran over to the fishing rod and grabbed the still spinning reel. Whatever hooked the line was very strong, but Clem held onto the reel with all her strength.

"Just hang on to it," instructed Omid as he sat down behind Clem. He placed his hand on Clem's and together the two started reeling in their catch. Even with Omid's help, the pair only managed to bring in the line a little bit at a time. But surely they pulled their catch closer. Clem saw something big splashing in the stream less than ten feet away.

"Wow." Clementine and Omid pulled with all their might and with a final push of effort, saw the fruit of their efforts. Dangling from the end of their line was a still wriggling smallmouth bass. Clementine was surprised by its size, being nearly as long as one of her arms, if not longer.

"Damn, I always wind up with pint sized trouts," chuckled Omid. "Your first catch and you're already out doing me as a fisherman as well." Omid unhooked the fish and threw it into the small cooler he brought with him.

"My catch?" asked Clementine. "But I didn't…"

"You were the one watching it. You grabbed it first. And you provided the bait too," reminded Omid. "I think that makes it more yours than mine."

"But, I couldn't have pulled it in without your help."

"Well, there might be a little asterisk by it with my name on on it, but otherwise, I'm totally telling Christa you caught us dinner tonight." Omid smiled at Clementine. "Now if we just had some more bait, we might actually have seconds for a change."

"Maybe I can find some," suggested Clementine.

"Feel free to scrounge around, but I've spent more time around here looking for dead bugs than I care to admit and I usually come out empty handed," explained Omid. "At this point I'm starting to think they're avoiding dying around here just to spite me."

"What about in the woods?" suggested Clementine.

"Tempting as that is, I can't go too far from the stream," informed Omid. "Probably would have lost that catch a minute ago if you hadn't grabbed it. And nice as it is, we could always use more."

"Then I'll go," suggested Clementine. "I could look for more mushrooms too. Maybe even find some berries or nuts, like we used to have."

"I don't know..."

"Please," begged Clementine in her sweetest voice.

"Christa wouldn't like this." Clem kept staring at Omid. "But... she's not here right now. So, just this once, okay." Clem adjusted her backpack and then immediately started heading to the other side of the stream.

"Hey, hey, hold up," said Omid. "Few ground rules we need to go over. First thing, do you even know what direction you're heading in?"

"Umm…"

"You're pointing north right now. To get back you'll have to go south. You remembered what I told you right?"

"Um, if it's morning, the sun is east. And if it's after noon, it's west," recited Clem. "East should be on the right, west on the left, north would be straight ahead, so if I turn around, I'd go south."

"Good. Now, if you see anyone, dead or alive, you come right back."

"I will."

"And don't be too long, especially if you find something we can use for bait."

"I won't."

"And you got your gun right?" Clem took off her backpack and checked inside.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Okay, you be careful." Clementine nodded at Omid, then moved across the stream, hopping across a few of the larger rocks to avoid getting wet. She headed out of the clearing and into the forest.


	4. Danger and the Deep Woods

Clementine kept moving forward, carefully observing her surroundings as she did so. The woods here weren't any different than the ones she walked through earlier, yet Clem couldn't help but feel a little excited. This was the furthest she had been away from her new home since settling here months ago. She had spent so much of the winter cooped up in the cabin she had almost forgotten the rest of the world was still out there.

Clementine continued further into the forest, stopping to check the various flora. She was really hoping to find something other than mushrooms to eat. She had never liked them, and eating them almost every day for the last month had just made her further hate them. Clem checked the sky again to make sure she was still moving north. It was getting cloudier, but she could still see the sun.

Continuing deeper into the woods, Clem heard a distinct chirping sound off in the distance. It was a cricket, and possibly future bait as well. Clementine started moving towards the source of the chirping as quickly as she could. As she neared the source, the chirping suddenly stopped, as if her prey had detected her presence. Clem held perfectly still for a moment, and another chirp sounded. Clem very carefully tip toed towards a fallen log. The chirping stopped again, but Clem continued her approach.

Sitting on the log was a particularly fat insect. Clem slowly reached out her hand, ready to catch it. Just as she grabbed for the bug, it hopped away. Clem scrambled over the log and tried again to snatch the cricket, but no luck. It kept hopping for dear life as Clem tried to chase after it. She lunged at it again and managed to grasp the fat cricket before it could hop away again. Clem carefully opened her hand to confirm her catch, and found a somewhat smooshed bug resting in her palm.

"Eww." Clementine peeled what she could off her hand and put it in her backpack. Then she wiped her hand on the grass, trying to get off some of the sticky bug blood. Normally she didn't really think much about bugs, but something about the way it was hopping away from her made Clem feel a tiny bit guilty about killing it. It really didn't want to be caught. But mostly she felt proud of having something to bring back, even if it was just a bug.

Clementine started to zip up her backpack when she heard a nearby rustling sound. She quickly darted back to the fallen tree for cover and watched closely as the rustling grew louder. Clementine pulled her gun out of her backpack, her heart racing as whatever was coming grew louder. She watched in terror as something stumbled out from the brush.

It was a big, old, red, dog. Clem's fear quickly turned to wonderment. She hadn't seen a dog since before everything changed. People didn't really keep pets anymore, or if they did, she never got to meet any of them. It made Clem stop and wonder about what else was still out there, until she noticed the dog was moving straight towards her. Clem tried to hide behind the tree but the dog had already picked up her scent. It came over the downed tree with some difficulty and looked right at Clementine.

"Umm, good boy." The dog seemed a lot older close up, and a lot bigger too. Clem noticed it was missing one of its eyes and half of its tail had been cut off. Both looked to be old injuries. The dog also looked very hungry. "I'm sorry. I don't have anything to eat." The dog kept staring at Clementine. She couldn't help but feel sorry for it. "You poor thing." Clementine slowly offered her free hand to the dog, allowing him to sniff it. "I wish there was something I could do for…"

The dog snapped at Clementine, biting her arm. Clem pulled her arm free of the dog's jaws, badly cutting herself as she did so. She recoiled in horror at the sight of the bloody gash running across half the length of her arm. She tried to cradle the painful injury with her other hand, but the gun she was holding made that impossible.

The dog however just continued to stare at Clem, as if nothing had happened. Clementine started backing away from the animal, which kept moving towards her.

"Go away." The dog paid no attention to Clem's command. "Shoo! Leave me alone!" The dog started growling in response to Clementine raising her voice. "Stop!" The dog didn't stop. It kept inching closer to Clementine every step she took backwards, growling louder and louder. "Go away! Just…" The dog let out a savage bark and Clem pulled the trigger.

It took Clementine a moment to piece together what just transpired. She didn't even remember aiming her gun at the dog. It just seemed to happen when she heard it bark at her. She looked down at the now motionless corpse of the canine. The shot was clean in its head, and its blood was slowly spilling onto the grass. Despite what it just did, Clem found it hard to look at the dead animal.

As the shock of the attack started to fade, Clementine suddenly felt the searing pain in her arm. She looked at it again and blood was seeping into her whole sleeve now. Clem tossed her gun into her backpack and picked it up with her one good arm. She looked up at the sky to find her way back, but it was so overcast now she couldn't see the sun.

A sense of panic started to sweep over Clementine. She looked back at the fallen tree and figured since she had to jump over it earlier to catch the cricket, that was probably north. Clem turned and started running in the direction she would hope lead her back to the stream. She found it hard to keep up a good pace as every step seemed to further irritate her injury. Clementine looked around for any sign she was heading in the right direction but all she saw were trees in every direction. She tried to keep running, but the pain in her arm became unbearable.

Finally she couldn't run any further, slowing to a stop near a tree she could lean on. Clementine started gasping for air. Her gaze briefly drifted back to her arm, but the sight of her own blood dripping down her hand was enough to make Clem look away. She turned away, breathing heavily, trying to think what she should do next. But she couldn't think of anything. It dawned on Clem she might die here, lost in this forest. The thought of this terrified Clementine, and yet she couldn't even muster up the strength to remain standing.

She slid down the trunk of the tree and plopped onto the ground, unsure if she even wanted to stand up again. Her gaze drifted skyward, just to see it was completely covered in clouds now. Clementine sighed and leaned her head back to rest on the tree. As she turned her head, trying to get slightly more comfortable, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She saw the silhouette of someone standing far off in the distance. It could be Omid, but she couldn't tell from this far away. She hesitated to call to this person, but another glimpse of her arm made her realize how dire her situation was.

"Omid!" The person spun around to face Clementine, aiming a rifle in her direction. Clem froze in place, petrified at this sight. Again, she reached for her gun, but the call of a familiar voice stopped her.

"Clementine!" Clem watched as the figure lowered the rifle. It had to be Omid. She started racing towards him as fast as her legs would carry her, trying to ignore the horrid pain in her arm. She could see Omid's face now, his normally friendly smile replaced with a look of overwhelming concern.

"I heard a shot. What happened?" Omid noticed Clementine's arm as he closed the distance between them. "Oh shit."

"A dog bit me."

"A dog?"

"Yeah, it was in the woods, and…"

"Better it than a walker, but…" Omid carefully examined Clem's arm. "Oh, he got you good. Hang on." Omid tore off the bloody sleeve on Clem's undershirt. He then reached for the other sleeve and started tearing it just below Clem's shoulder. "Sorry to wreck your trademark outfit."

"It's already wrecked." Clementine watched as Omid used the other sleeve to fashion a crude bandage. He tied it tightly around the open wound, causing Clem to wince as he did so.

"Okay. That'll have to do for the trip back. But you're gonna need stitches." Omid led Clementine back to the stream, which wasn't far. Omid then collected the cooler and stored it in his backpack, after removing the water jugs.

"You're not bringing the water?

"Too heavy, and it's not bleeding." Omid put his backpack on. "I'll come back for it and the rod later. After I get you home."

"Then why are you bringing the cooler?" asked Clementine.

"Because I want you to have something good to eat when we get back," explained Omid as he approached Clem. "You'll heal better on a full stomach." Omid carefully scooped Clementine off the ground and into his arms.

"I can still walk," insisted Clementine.

"I don't want you to make your arm any worse by running through the forest," insisted Omid. "Hold onto me with your good arm. And if you need to stop for anything, you just say so."

"Okay," nodded Clem.

"Christa's gonna give me hell for this."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm gonna let her." Omid carried Clementine back towards the cabin, carefully keeping Clementine close to him while trying to keep up a hurried pace. Clem did her best to stay quiet despite the pain. With the bandage, her arm felt like it was throbbing, as if the blood was trying to force itself out. She felt like crying out but she didn't. She knew there was nothing Omid could do until they were back at the cabin, so she just closed her eyes and tried to think of anything to take her mind off the pain, but nothing came to mind.

The trip back probably took about half an hour but for Clem it felt like an eternity. She was so relieved when an out of breath Omid told her that they were almost there. Clem opened her eyes and through all the trees she could just barely see the cabin. She never thought she be so happy to be back in that dull old cabin, but just seeing it seemed to ease the pain in her arm a little. Right as they reached the edge of the clearing, Omid came to a sudden stop.

"Omid?" said Clem. "Why'd you…" Omid made a shushing noise in response. Very carefully he set Clem down, then knelt down.

"What's going on?" whispered Clem.

"I think I see a couple of people," whispered Omid as he took his rifle in hand. "By the front door." Clem looked closely. It was hard to tell, but there did seem to be two figures standing in front of the cabin.

"Who are they?"

"Let's find out." Omid braced the rifle against his shoulder and looked through the scope. "Well the one of the right is Christa. She's talking to someone, and she doesn't look too happy about it, all though, that's fairly normal for her."

"Who's the other person?" asked Clementine.

"A man in a flannel shirt with dark hair. I'd tell you more, but he's got his back turned, so that's all I got." Clem edged closer to get a better view, but she still couldn't see much other than what was apparently two people way off in the distance.

"This guy's got a gun tucked in his waistband. Again though, that's fairly normal these days." It dawned on Clem that since she had her pistol, and Omid had the rifle, Christa didn't have a gun herself.

"What's someone doing out here?" asked Clem. "How would they even find this place?"

"Maybe it's the cabin's original owner?" suggested Omid. "Or maybe he just stumbled upon it. I mean, that's basically what we did. We did just happen to spot it way off in the distance from some freeway. Who's to say he didn't…" Omid suddenly tensed up. He tightened his grip on the rifle as if he was actually aiming at something now.

"What's going on?" whispered Clem.

"I recognize that look. She's given it to me more times than I care to remember." said Omid. "Whoever this is, Christa's losing her patience for him. It looks like she's telling him to leave, but he's not showing any signs of leaving." Clem watched as Omid steadied the rifle. "All right Clem, listen carefully. Here's what we're going to do. First…" The back of Omid's head erupted, spewing blood and gore on everything behind him. Clementine watched in utter shock as he collapsed backwards onto the dirt, a confused expression frozen on his now lifeless face and a neatly made bullet hole on his forehead.


	5. Meeting New People

Clementine just stared at Omid's body in absolute disbelief at what just happened. She wanted to turn away, yet couldn't, as if something was compelling her to look. She just kept watching him, hoping against everything she knew he'd get up again, and not as a walker. Clementine then noticed the entire front of her dress had been covered in blood. She started hastily trying to wipe it off but only succeeded in smearing it across her clothes and onto her hands.

A shout in the distance distracted Clem from the horrid sight in front of her. Looking back to the cabin, she could see three figures now, and they were all heading right in her direction.

Clementine hastily retreated back into the forest. She rushed towards one of the bigger trees and ducked behind it, hoping that no one saw her. She struggled to remain quiet, finding it hard not to take deep breaths while her heart was pounding against her chest. Clementine managed to calm herself just enough to hear something other than her own breathing.

It was eerily quiet, but Clem didn't dare leave her hiding spot. Instead she turned her head, scanning as much of surroundings as she could without moving. She didn't see anyone around, she didn't hear anything coming, but she knew there had to be people out there. Very slowly she slid her backpack off, wincing as she took off the left strap. In her shock she had briefly forgotten the wound on her arm. Clementine carefully removed her gun, then put her backpack on.

All though it pained her to do so, she grasped the gun with both hands, then she waited. Clem kept expecting to hear someone any moment, yet all she heard was silence. Were they trying to sneak up on her? Were they even coming? Who were these people? Clementine tried to keep calm and remain hidden, but with every passing second she was becoming more unnerved by the silence than by what just happened.

Eventually Clem couldn't take it anymore, she had to know if there was anyone out there. Ever so carefully she leaned out from her hiding spot, figuring she could just briefly peek and then go right back to hiding. She moved her head out from behind the tree, and found herself staring directly down a rifle barrel. Clem immediately froze in place, too terrified to make a move. She only just barely mustered the courage to shift her glance upwards at the person holding the gun.

She found herself looking at fairly young man with light blue eyes, shaggy facial hair and a dark red baseball cap. Much to Clementine's confusion, he looked frightened. An odd kind of silence followed as Clem waited for him to say something. She noticed he had dark hair, but not a flannel shirt, which means he wasn't the same person Omid was looking at. The next thing she noticed was the rifle he was holding wasn't the same one used by Omid, which means this was probably the man who shot him. After a tense minute, the man slowly lowered his gun, eventually aiming it straight at the ground

"Hey…" he said in an uncertain voice. "Why don't you, just come out, and…" Clementine stepped out from behind the tree and aimed her gun right at the man. She moved her finger to the trigger while she watched the man recoil in fear at the sight of her.

"Wait, wait, just… just let me explain." Clementine glimpsed Omid's body just beyond where the man was standing. Seeing that before horrified her, but seeing it now actually made her angry. What possible explanation could there be for what happened? Who was he to tell her to wait after what he he did? Why should she even listen to anything he says?

"Drop the gun!" Clem looked to her left to see a second man aiming a pistol at her. "Right now!" This man did have a flannel shirt on. He was also older than the first man, had more facial hair, darker skin, and he clearly wasn't frightened. In fact, he looked furious. Clem looked at his eyes and had no doubt he would shoot her if she didn't do what he said. Clem lowered her gun, and he man in flannel quickly took it from her.

"What did I tell you Nick?" spoke the man in flannel, clearly frustrated. "Stay on your guard."

"What the fuck was I suppose to do?" retorted the younger man. "I didn't think she'd have a gun."

"Just go get the woman," ordered the man in flannel. "And for your sake, assume she does have a gun. It'll keep you from doing anything else stupid." The younger man glared at the older man before moving back in the cabin's direction.

"You," the man gestured at Clementine with his gun. "Take off that backpack, slowly. Then set it on the ground." Clem did as ordered, laying it at the man's feet. "Back up." Clem watched as the man pilfered through her mostly empty pack. After finding nothing of interest he tossed it aside. "Put your hands on your head." Clem's wound made that action painful to do, but she complied, wincing from the pain as she did so. "What happened to your arm?" Clem couldn't help but notice the total lack of concern in the man's voice. It was just a question he wanted answered.

"I got bitten by…"

"You were?" The hint of alarm in the man's voice made Clementine realize how poorly worded her answer was.

"By a dog," Clem finished hastily.

"A dog?" asked the man in disbelief. "It was, what, just in the woods?"

"Yeah, it was." This seemed to do little to convince the man.

"You're a bad liar," he accused.

"I'm not lying," insisted Clem.

"Save it. Start moving." The man gestured towards where Omid was lying. As Clem approached his body she could hear Christa's voice in the distance. Clem could see the younger man, Nick, was leading her at gunpoint.

"I swear to God, if you've hurt her, I'll..." Christa spotted what was left of her boyfriend. "Omid!" She rushed to his body and dropped to her knees. "Please God no. No, you can't… I…" Christa looked up to see a frightened Clementine and the man aiming a gun at her. "You fucking bastards!" she snarled. "Why!"

"He was going to shoot Carlos," asserted Nick.

"He wasn't going to shoot," insisted Clementine. "He was just using the gun to see who was at the cabin."

"He was?" asked a surprised Nick.

"He wouldn't just shoot someone for no reason," stated a furious Christa. "But I guess you people do."

"I didn't just shoot him for no reason," insisted a frustrated Nick. "He was aiming at Carlos, I…

"You don't have to justify yourself to her," asserted Carlos. "These people gave a gun to their kid. God knows what else they're capable of."

"She has a gun to protect herself," retorted Christa.

"Well little good it did her, seeing as she's been bitten," noted Carlos.

"What are you talking..." Christa noticed Clementine's arm. She hurried to Clem's side and examined the bandage, noticing the shape of the wound from the bloodstains. "What the hell happened?"

"A dog bit me," repeated Clem.

"A dog?" asked Christa.

"A likely story," scoffed Carlos.

"If Clementine said it was a dog it was a dog," insisted Christa. "She wouldn't lie about something like that."

"Says you. I say we're quarantining her until morning." said Carlos. "Nick, I saw a shed by the cabin. Clean it out of anything useful and then lock the girl inside it."

"What?" exclaimed Clementine.

"You can't be serious," stated Christa in disbelief. "She's fucking bleeding!"

"I'm not risking ourselves for a bite victim. If it was just a dog then you shouldn't have anything to worry about it. Right?" asked Carlos in a cold tone.

"Her arm could get infected. Or she could even bleed to death," said Christa.

"It really hurts," moaned Clem. "Please, just let Christa fix it and I'll do what you want. I promise."

"I've got supplies in the house," explained Christa. "Just let me take care of her arm. I'll do it myself."

"Maybe we could let her do that, then lock her up?" suggested Nick.

"No," stated Carlos. "She already pulled a gun on you and her father was planning on killing me. We give them any opportunity and they'll use it against us. Best keep them separated."

"It was a dog!" insisted Clem.

"Just let me tend to her arm," begged Christa. "She's just a little girl." This comment seemed to anger Carlos.

"I need help for my little girl," said Carlos through clenched teeth. "And you tried to kill me before I could even finish asking. Be thankful I'm not returning the favor."

"He wasn't going to kill you!" insisted Clem.

"And I don't see another little girl here," growled Christa.

"Maybe that's because I actually protect my daughter," retorted Carlos. "Not put a gun in her hand and tell her to point it at people."

"You fuckers!" snapped Christa.

"Nick, put the girl in the shed." Carlos pointed his gun at Christa. "You and I are going to that cabin. Once I find somewhere to lock her up, you can get Pete and we'll figure out what to do with them."

"I'll kill you people!" threatened Christa.

"I have no doubt," responded Carlos with little concern. "But if you really care at all about her, you'll cooperate." Christa turned to a terrified Clementine, who was being held at gunpoint by Nick.

"Clementine," said Christa as calmly as she could. "Just be brave. I'll figure something out. Okay? I won't let…"

"Enough," Carlos shoved Christa forward. "Start walking."

"Come on." Nick pulled Clem along by her good arm. She watched in disbelief as Carlos forced Christa back towards the cabin. "Hey, pay attention, you're not going there." Nick forced Clem ahead of him. She saw the shed just beyond the cabin.

"Please," begged a wounded Clem. "Please don't do this."

"Hey, don't put this on me," said Nick. "Your guy started it by aiming at Carlos."

"He wasn't going to shoot!" cried Clem. "He was just trying to see what was happening. That's it."

"And what about you?" asked Nick as they reached the shed. "Were you using your gun just to see me a minute ago?" Nick opened the shed door and glanced inside. "Go all the way to the back, where I'll be able to see you." Clementine did as instructed, marching to the back of the shed. She slowly turned around and saw Nick was quickly emptying the shelves, removing a hammer and a nail bucket.

"I'm sorry," pleaded Clem. "You shot Omid, then I saw people coming, and I saw your gun and… I didn't know what to do. I thought you were going to kill me." This confession caused Nick to take pause. He looked at the frightened girl standing alone in the back of the shed, clutching her arm for dear life.

"I… I wasn't just gonna shoot you, all right?" Nick sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead of Clem.

"Neither was Omid," repeated Clem.

"Well… Then he shouldn't have been aiming a gun at someone," reasoned Nick.

"You aimed a gun at me," reminded Clem.

"Hey, I was aiming at the side of a tree. I didn't know who was behind it," snapped Nick. "I put it down when I saw you. You knew I wasn't going to kill you, but you aimed a gun at me anyways!" Nick glared angrily at Clem, who simply looked away in shame. "Well lucky for you I'm not the type of guy who'd kill a little girl." Nick grabbed the last few remaining items in the shed and dumped them outside.

"Yes you are," accused Clem as Nick moved to close the door. "If you do this, you're going to kill me."

"It's not my fault you got bitten," retorted Nick.

"I wasn't bitten, not the way you think I was," said Clem. "But I could still die if I don't get help. And if that happens, it'll be your fault."

"No it's not," reasoned Nick. "Even if it was a dog, it's still not my fault it bit you." Clem looked on in despair as Nick reached for the door.

"Fine, it's my fault," admitted Clementine. "But please, help me. You said you wouldn't kill a little girl. Doesn't that mean you want to help them too?" Nick held onto the door, unsure of how to answer. "I won't cause any trouble. I'll do whatever you say. Just please, please, don't leave me out here."

"I'll…" Nick sighed. He briefly looked at Clem, who stared desperately at the young man. "I'll talk to Carlos about it." Clem felt her heart sink. "But you gotta stay out here for now. That's just how it has to be." Nick shut the door, leaving a wounded Clem alone in the dark.


	6. Home Invasion

Clementine rocked back and forth on the ground, desperately try to think of anything that could take her mind off her surroundings. She had already tried the door several times now. Pulling it, kicking it, banging on it, even ramming it with her shoulder. But it wouldn't budge. Clem had searched the shed probably a dozen times now for anything useful. But there was nothing. No windows, no tools, no signs of escape. Just four wooden walls and a roof.

She didn't know how long had it been since she was locked up. It's hard to keep track of time in an empty shed. Clem could see through the slits in the boards it was dark now, so it had been at least a few hours. She could also hear it was raining now, some of which leaked though the roof. Clementine was actually grateful for that since it gave her something to drink, which helped slightly in curbing her hunger.

Unfortunately the rain and the sun going down meant it had gotten much colder. Even more unfortunate, Clem discovered a drafty shed wasn't nearly as good at keeping out the cold as a well built cabin. She had started shivering about an hour ago and her teeth had recently started chattering, and it felt like it was getting colder still.

As bad as the cold was getting, Clementine's arm was still her biggest problem. The pain was worse than ever and the wound had started slowly bleeding through the bandage Omid had made. She was afraid to even look at the injury, worried she would see her whole arm just covered in blood at this point, or worse.

With nothing else to do, Clementine tried to go to sleep. She was pretty tired, maybe she could just wake up in the morning and things would better. Clem curled up in one of the corners, pulled her knees up to her chest, and used her one good arm to try and keep warm. Clementine shut her eyes and tried to force out the cold and the pain and the hunger from her mind, but it was too much. She couldn't even ignore the cold thanks to an oddly localized draft hitting the back of her head.

Clementine rolled over and studied the wall, hoping to find the source of the draft. The shed didn't have a floor, it was just built on top of the dirt, and there was a gap between a couple of the boards where the ground was uneven. Clementine edged in closer and looked through the gap. She could actually see the cabin through it, or at very least the bottom of it.

Clem pushed on the boards above the gap, but they didn't give. She sat up and started kicking them instead, hitting them over and over again until her foot hurt. It made no difference. Clem sighed. She tried to stick her hand through the gap, just hoping to get a little bit closer to home. She wanted nothing more than to just get away from the cabin this morning, but now she'd give anything just to spend the night in her bed again.

Unable to fit, Clem pulled back her hand, now covered in dirt. She looked at the gap again, thinking if she was just a little bigger or stronger she could break those boards and get out, but she wasn't. Clem started wiping the dirt off her hand, further ruining her already ruined dress, when it dawned on her. She couldn't move the boards, but she could move the dirt.

Clem dug her nails into the dirt around the gap. The ground was cold and hard, but she managed to pry a handful of soil loose. She tossed it in the corner and immediately reached for another handful. Again, again and again she dug out a scoop of the ground, widening the gap a little bit at a time. Her fingertips became very sore as she dug, having to use them to break the increasingly hard ground, but Clem refused to slow down.

Every handful let her see a little bit more of the outside. Clem tested the gap by sticking her arm through. She managed to get her whole shoulder though, but there wasn't nearly enough room for her head, so she started widening the opening. Her hand was beginning to ache, but the sight of the cabin was enough for Clem to keep shoveling at a frantic pace.

Unable to wait any longer, Clem plunged her whole head into the gap. It was a very tight fit, and she had to close her eyes as her face brushed against the wet ground. But slowly she managed to force herself through the opening. Rain started falling on her head as half of her emerged on the other side of the wall. However, Clem had trouble pulling the rest of herself through the hole.

She had to bend at an odd angle to get under the boards and was now pinned at the waist by the shed wall. Clem reached out with her good hand and dug into the ground, trying to pull herself free. She managed to budge a little, but slid right back into place after she stopped pulling. Clem didn't think she could possibly go backwards at this point, and even if she could she didn't want to. So, she did the only other thing she could think of.

Clem reached out with both arms and dug her fingers into the dirt as deeply as she could to get a grip. Just gripping the ground was painful with her bad arm, but she didn't know what else to do. Clem took a deep breath, and started pulling as hard as she could with both arms. The pain was immediate and excruciating, but she kept pulling. Her hips slid under the wall and the exact moment her legs entered the hole she started pushing off the ground. With a final agonizing pull, Clem freed herself from the shed and collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion.

She laid there for a moment, taking deep breaths as the cold rain fell on her. She briefly glanced at her arm, but had to look away when she saw it. The bandage was soaked with blood that was trailing off the end of her hand. Realizing the urgency of her situation, Clementine forced herself to stand up and faced the cabin, unsure how to proceed.

She moved to one of the windows and carefully peered inside. The interior was dimly lit by candlelight. Clementine could make out two figures in the distance. She assumed they were Nick and Carlos, but the dark made it hard to tell. She was fairly certain neither was Christa though. Her pregnancy made her pretty recognizable even in silhouette.

Something passed in front of the window and Clem ducked out of sight. Looking straight up at the window, she could see someone was standing in front of her, but their back was turned. Clem started edging away from the window, not wanting to risk being seen. As she did so, she could hear them speaking through the wall. She couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like three different voices, and none of them sounded like Christa.

Moving out of earshot of their conversation, Clementine headed for the back porch. It was covered and provided a little respite from the weather, so she laid down on it to rest for a moment. She was both freezing and soaking wet now, quite the miserable combination. Clem looked up at the door and was tempted to step inside, just to get slightly warmer for a minute. But it seemed like much too big a risk, and for far too little payoff.

Looking around she noticed the lattice siding that surrounded the sides of the porch. The pattern of intersecting boards made for a series of gaps that seemed just the right size for her to use as footholds. Clem tested it by sticking her foot in one of the holes and used her arm to pull herself off the ground. It felt sturdy. She could probably climb on top of the wooden overhang that ran over the porch.

Clementine stepped off the porch and looked up at the side of the cabin. There were three windows on the second floor, one of which was directly above the porch. If it was open, she could slip into the second floor. She wasn't sure what she'd do when she got inside, but at very least it'd be warmer. It certainly couldn't be worse than standing outside in the rain, so Clem started climbing.

It was difficult with just one functional arm. She had to stretch out to grab the highest handhold, then push off with one of her legs until she could find footing with the other. The rain wasn't helping either, making everything slippery. But gradually Clem worked her way up the side of the porch, eventually emerging on top of it. She headed for the nearest window, but a loud bang from inside caused her to jump.

Clem noticed the window was broken. As she approached the opening, another loud bang echoed from inside the cabin. Unsure of what to expect, Clem carefully inched closer. A few more bangs sounded as she reached the window frame. Peeking inside she found the source of the noise, it was Christa banging her shoulder against the door.

"Christa!"

"Clementine!" An overjoyed Christa rushed to the window and helped Clem inside. "You got out. Thank god," whispered Christa as she put her arms around the shivering girl.

"Are you okay?" asked Clem as she hugged Christa, both for comfort and for warmth.

"I'm all right," assured Christa. "They put me in here and nailed the door shut from the other side. I've been trying to break the door down, but the damn thing won't budge. The window only opens half way, so I've tried knocking it out of the frame, but it wouldn't give either."

"I had to dig under the shed wall, and almost got stuck," informed Clementine. "I think I made my arm worse when I did." Christa gently took Clem's arm in hand and examined it. Clem looked away as Christa slowly peeled back the bandage, hoping to spare herself the sight. Instead she saw Christa grimace, which just worried Clem more.

"We've got to take care of this," reported a concerned Christa as she tightened Clem's bandage. "The sooner, the better."

"Can you fix it?" asked Clementine.

"If I had our first aid kit, I think I could." Christa sighed. "But I'm stuck in this room." Clementine moved back to the window and looked outside. The window next to this one led to the bathroom, unfortunately the porch stopped a few feet before that, leaving an uncomfortable gap between where Clem could stand safely and where she needed to go.

"No," insisted Christa as she examined the surroundings and realized what Clem was thinking. "There's no way."

"If I could reach it, I could get inside and get the first aid kit," realized Clem.

"And if you fall you could break something," added Christa. "And there still wouldn't be anything we could do about it." The thought of furthering injuring herself caused Clem to take pause.

"If… If you don't fix my arm, what'll happen?" Clem asked nervously. "Will I be okay?" Christa didn't answer immediately, but the look on her face made it clear that Clem probably wouldn't be okay. "Christa?"

"It looks pretty bad Clem," confessed a reluctant Christa. "And the longer that wound is open, the more likely you're going to get an infection."

"That's really bad, isn't it?" Christa nodded drearily in response. Clem turned back to the window and looked outside. "It's not too far," Clem tried to convince herself. "I… I think I could make it."

"I don't like this," confessed an apprehensive Christa. "But we don't really have any options."

"If I can't reach it, I'll come right back," promised Clementine.

"Okay, I'll keep trying to bust out the window frame. If I could just get out I can help you over." Christa picked up a wooden chair sitting in the corner.

"Won't they hear you?" asked Christa.

"They started ignoring me like an hour ago. They'd probably get suspicious if I stopped making noise for too long," explained Christa. "Also, this way they won't hear you if you get inside." Clem climbed back out the window and headed for the edge of porch's roof. Christa started banging on the window frame with the chair, making plenty of noise as she planned.

Looking over at the bathroom window, it suddenly seemed a lot further to Clem than it did a minute ago. She moved right to the very edge and stretched out with her good arm until it hurt. Even with her fingers completely extended the window was just barely out of reach.

Clementine moved to the cabin wall and pressed her back flat against it, then scooched over to the very edge of the porch roof. Again she reached out, managing to find the seam where the window meet the window sill. There was no handle on the outside of the window, so her only choice was to try and pry it open. Clem pushed her fingernails into the thin crack under the window and tried pulling it open. With no success, Clem gave the window a sudden forceful tug.

She felt her stomach drop as she suddenly lost her balance. She instinctively swung her arm back towards the wall and managed to regain her footing before she fell. After giving herself a few seconds for her heart to stop pounding, Clem tried for the window again.

Her last attempt seemed to create a tiny opening for her to use. She forced her fingers under the window, then started pushing up. The awkward angle made it hard to apply force, but steadily she could feel the window moving. After getting it to move a couple of inches, the window slid the rest of the way with ease.

Clementine carefully moved away from the edge. She looked at the now wide open window, actually feeling a bit of pride in what she managed. It didn't last though, as Clem realized she now had to jump to the open window. It was actually a very short distance, but the window was also a narrow target and it was a pretty steep drop if she missed. Clementine backed up several feet, readying herself for a running jump.

She sprinted across the porch roof and threw herself at the open window. Greatly overestimating how much speed she would need, Clem collided stomach first with the window sill, knocking the breath out of her and folding her upper half forward through the opening. Clem hastily grabbed onto the sill before gravity took effect. She pulled with all her might, straining the muscles in her good arm to no end. It took every bit of strength she had, but she pulled the rest of body through the window and flopped onto the hard wood floor.

Clementine lay there for a brief time, contemplating the entirely new level of exhaustion she just discovered, wondering if she could possibly feel more tired than she did right now. But after taking a few deep breaths, she picked herself up and headed for the sink. She opened the cabinet under it, expecting to find the red and black tackle box they kept their medical supplies in. But the cabinet was empty.


	7. The Girl at the End of the Hall

"What…" Clementine checked again, still in disbelief at what she saw. "No… Why?" The cabinet was bare. There was nothing for her to take. Someone else must have already taken the first aid kit. The agony of her wounded arm became unbearable in light of losing the only means to mend it. She clutched the injury in a pitiful attempt to even slightly soothe it at all. Unsure of what to do now, Clementine gazed at the bathroom door.

Realizing there was little for her to lose at this point, Clem very slowly slid the door opened and peeked outside. Seeing only an empty hall, she stepped outside. A succulent scent seemed to be hanging in the air. So compelling it was to the hungry girl, she founded herself drawn to the bannister overlooking the first floor.

She could hear a familiar crackling and realized someone was cooking something in the fireplace. Clem recognized the fragrance, it was definitely freshly roasted fish. Normally she was pretty indifferent to that smell, but at the moment it was intoxicating. Clem found herself almost forgetting about her objective before a muffled bang startled her back to her senses. It was immediately followed by more bangs in quick succession.

"Sounds like she's at it again," noted a gruff voice. "You two must have really pissed her off something fierce." Clem didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded like it was coming from the living room.

"Let her vent," insisted Carlos. "She'll get tired eventually."

"Maybe… Maybe I should go check on her," suggested Nick.

"You really think she'd want to see you?" asked Carlos. "Just leave her until morning. If she feels like talking, we can talk then." Seeing as everyone was still on the first floor, Clem realized she could search the upstairs in relative safety. She moved to the door that led to the room Christa was in. There were three boards nailed over it. Clem tried pulling on one, but it wasn't coming off. Even if it did, she couldn't reach the highest one.

With no clue to where to start looking, she headed for her own room, figuring it was as good a place as any to search for the missing first aid kit. She cracked the door open, and was immediately greeted with a pair of eyes staring right at her. They belonged to a dark haired girl in glasses who was sitting on Clem's bed with a book in hand. The two girls just stared at each other in utter bewilderment until the girl with glasses finally broke the silence.

"You're… you're not supposed to be in here," she whispered nervously.

"This is my room," proclaimed Clementine.

"It is?" asked the girl in surprise. Reasoning she had already been spotted, Clem stepped inside.

"Who are you?" asked the girl. "Why are you…" The girl stopped mid-sentence when she caught sight of Clementine's bandaged and bleeding arm.

"Please, can you help me?" The girl didn't answer. Her eyes were wide open in terror and she was taking panicked deep breaths. "Hey, can you hear me?"

"Wh… Wh… What happened to your arm?" she stammered.

"A dog bit me," answered Clem.

"Why?"

"I don't know," confessed Clem. "I just need to fix it."

"I… I'll go get my dad," suggested the girl. "He…"

"No!" Clementine wasn't sure which man was the girl's dad. Judging from her brown skin, she was probably Carlos's daughter, the last person Clem wanted to see right now. "I just need one thing. It's a red and black plastic box. If you could give me that, or just tell me where it is, I'll go away, and you won't have to tell anyone I was ever here."

"I haven't seen anything like that." That answer just further frustrated Clementine.

"Well, maybe you could help me find it?" suggested Clem.

"I… I can't," answered the girl reluctantly. "My dad said..."

"I could die if I don't get it." This revelation clearly disturbed the girl, twisting the expression on her face from wide eyed terror to deep-seated concern. "Please," begged an anguished Clementine. "Please don't let me die." The plea clearly affected the girl, all though Clem couldn't be certain how. She set her book down and stepped off the bed. Clem was surprised to see the girl was a head taller than her, and at least a few years older as well.

"Just wait here," she spoke softly as she headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

"What are…"

"I'll help you," she whispered. "I promise." There was sincerity in the way she said the word promise, but it did little to ease Clementine's mind. She watched the girl peek out the door, before stepping outside and quietly closing the door behind her. Clem was now alone in her own room.

It felt surreal being an intruder in her own home. Looking at the bed, Clementine realized the book the girl was holding was actually one of Clem's own. In the span of an afternoon these people seemed to have claimed what little she had left. They had moved into her house as if it was their own and already given what meager possessions Clem had left to some other girl. It was probably even the fish Omid had caught they were cooking for dinner.

Clem moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. She was relieved to see her radio and her drawings were still where she had left them this morning. She thought about taking them, but then she realized she'd have to carry them back out the window into the rain, something that might ruin them, or at very least would be even more work for something she didn't really need right now. Clem sighed and pushed the drawer shut, annoyed she seemingly couldn't hold onto what little she had left in this world. She sat down on the bed, wondering how long until the girl would return, or if she'd even return at all.

It then dawned on Clem that this person had no reason to actually help her, and was probably just looking for an excuse to leave the room. If she really was one of these people's daughters, then she was probably telling one of them right now about what she saw. A shiver shot up Clementine's spine as she realized Carlos or the others may be on their way upstairs this very moment. Clem raced back to the door, hoping to escape through the bathroom window. But upon opening the door Clem was greeted with a pair of familiar brown eyes staring at her in surprise.

"Um… Is this what you wanted?" Clem opened the door wider to see the girl was holding the first-aid kit in question.

"That's it." Clem snatched it right out of the girl's hand and set it on the floor. She popped the clasps on flipped the top open.

"I guess it got mixed in with my dad's things." Clem examined the kit's contents and, much to her relief, it looked like everything was still there. "You can have it, just please, don't tell my dad. Okay?"

"I won't." Clem hastily closed the first-aid kit and raced back into the bathroom, leaving the girl behind in the hall. She scampered onto the window sill and leaned outside with the first aid kit in hand. She swung the kit back and forth a few times to build up momentum before sending it tumbling through the air and back onto the porch roof. She then stood up on the little bit of room afforded to her by the sill and hopped the gap with relative ease. Clem scooped up the kit and raced towards the window.

"You're back," exclaimed a relieved Christa. "You'd been gone so long I figured they'd caught you, or worse." Christa took the first-aid kit and then helped Clementine through the window.

"The first-aid kit wasn't in the bathroom," explained Clementine. "I needed… help, to find it."

"Help?" questioned Christa as she started digging through the kit for what she needed.

"I'll explain later." Clementine watched as Christa threaded a sewing needle with a length of fishing line. "Oh no…"


	8. Do It Yourself Surgery

"I won't lie, this will hurt." Christa finished tying the fishing line to the needle and cut the line with a small pair of clippers.

"A lot?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah…" Christa looked at the frightened girl with a sense of pity. "In fact, you're probably gonna make a lot of noise when I do it, and if they hear that, they'll know you're here and come running," realized Christa.

"I'll… I won't make any noise," promised a nervous Clementine.

"You might not be able to help it." Christa looked at the banged up chair she had used as a club earlier. "But I think I know what can." She stomped on one of the wooden rods connecting the chairs legs together, snapping it. Christa collected the busted piece of wood and offered it to Clem.

"Here, put this in your mouth, and bite down on it."

"Why?"

"It'll help with the pain. Or at very least, it'll muffle your screams." Clem looked nervously at the wooden rod, deeply dreading what was coming next. "You don't have to be quiet the whole time. Just try not to yell for as long as you can. They spent a long time nailing the door shut, so they won't be able to get back in right away. But the longer they don't hear you, the more time I'll have to finish sewing up your arm before they can stop me." Clementine reluctantly took the stick from Christa and clenched it between her teeth.

"Okay, let's get started." Christa slowly unwrapped Clem's bandage. They both were disturbed by the deep red gash running across the length of Clem's forearm, dried blood smeared in every direction around it. "I've got to clean the wound first." Christa took a nearly empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed a small rag with it. "It's gonna sting. Like I said, just do your best not to yell. It's okay if you can't make it the whole time. Just try not to yell for as long as possible. Okay?" Clem nodded in response. Christa took a firm grip on Clem's wrist. "Ready?" Clem nodded again.

Christa rubbed the alcohol soaked rag across Clem's wound. It stung a little at first, then burned like hell shortly after that. Clem whimpered in pain, biting down on the stick as it felt like salt was being rubbed in her wound. "It's just a bit more," whispered an apologetic Christa. Clem continued to make muffled cries of pain as the searing pain continued. Christa set the rag down and reached for the needle next. She quickly wiped it with the rag coated in alcohol then turned to Clementine.

"Now, here comes the hard part." Clem was still waiting for the pain from the alcohol to subside when Christa aimed the needle at the edge of the wound. "Brace yourself." Clem closed her eyes and bit down on the stick. She squealed in agony as the needle pierced her flesh. She could actually feel it being pushed into her skin. Just when it felt like the worst was over, Clem felt the needle pierce her arm again, leading to even more garbled cries of pain. Christa pulled the thread through, snipped the line, then tied a tight knot, prompting more agonized moans from Clem.

"You're doing good Clem," encouraged Christa. "Now…" Clem spat out the stick.

"Are we done yet?" she asked, desperate for the answer to be yes.

"No, that was just the first one."

"Wh… What?" stammered a bewildered Clementine. "How many more times do you have to do that?" Christa examined the wound.

"I'd say you need at least five more stitches."

"Five?" asked a horrified Clementine.

"At least." Panic washed over Clem's body. "I'm gonna go as fast I can." Christa picked up the stick. "I know it's hard, but it won't be for very long." Clem reluctantly opened her mouth, allowing Christa to place the stick in it. "Just hang in there. You'll feel a lot better when it's over." Clem bit down and looked away as Christa readied the needle again.

Again Clem had to endure a series of painful stabs around her already incredibly sore wound. The second stitch seemed to hurt even more than the first, and the third worst still. Clem was biting the stick so hard she was afraid she was going to snap it. She could actually taste the wood in her mouth. As Christa started the fourth stitch, Clem finally found the pain unbearable. The stick fell out of her mouth as she started howling in agony.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" begged a hysterical Clem as Christa finished the fourth stitch.

"It's just two more," informed a repentant Christa. "It won't take…" Muffled shouts sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a loud bang. "Shit, they heard you."

"Just stop! Please!" sobbed an anguished Clementine. "Please, just…" Christa started another stitch. Tears rolled down Clem's face as as she struggled to escape Christa's iron grip. She kept screaming for mercy while the needle punctured her skin yet again. She struggled against Christa with whatever strength she had left. Clementine shrieked in pain as she felt Christa start yet another stitch. She pulled with all her weight, even pushing against the floor with her legs to try and escape the torment. She felt the needle yet again and hollered as loud as she could. Clem kept pulling with all her might until finally, her her arm was free.

Clementine scrambled into the corner and curled her arm up to her chest, desperate to not let Christa have it back. She started gasping for air in one breath, and sobbing in the next as she rubbed her arm for some small token of comfort. As the pain dulled slightly and her breathing slowed, she could see Christa approaching her.

"No! No!" insisted a hysterical Clementine.

"It's over!"

"What?" asked Clementine between breaths.

"I said it's over." Christa's voice carried a mixture of guilt and relief. "You're all done. See?" Christa gently pried Clem's arm away from the rest of her body, revealing the six stitches across her wound. Clem couldn't help notice how small they were compared to how much pain they caused her, but seeing the gash reduced to a narrow cut did provide her with a small tinge of relief. "You did good Clem. You did so good." Christa put her arm around Clem and gently rubbed her back. "All I got to do is clean it up a little and wrap a bandage around it, okay? It'll be easy. The worst part is over."

The door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang. Standing at the threshold was Carlos, Nick, and an older man with a receding hairline and a patchy beard. The gray haired man was bewildered by the sight of the trembling little girl in the muddy dress and the severely pissed pregnant woman angrily staring back at him.


	9. Unwanted House Guests

"Just what the hell am I looking at?" The older man looked at the bizarre sight of a bloody little girl being coddled by a very angry and severely pregnant woman with a sense of bewilderment. "Where the fuck did they come from?"

"She got out!" barked Carlos as he stepped forward.

"Back the hell up." The older man held out his arm and blocked Carlos. "Who the hell are they?"

"You the one in charge around here?" snarled Christa.

"No, Pete isn't in charge," answered Carlos.

"The hell I'm not!" The older man glared at Carlos. "Don't think for one second what happened to my leg will keep me from kicking your ass Carlos!" Carlos scowled in response, which just seemed to further anger Pete. The two stared angrily at each other for a moment, then Carlos took a step back. "Now, is somebody going to tell me what the hell I'm looking at?"

"We told you. We isolated a bite victim, who apparently got out." Carlos stared angrily at Clementine. "Then we locked the woman we found upstairs."

"You didn't mention anything about a kid or the woman being pregnant," retorted the man.

"I don't see how that changes anything," stated Carlos in a cold voice. "Their man tried to kill us, the woman threatened to kill us, their girl even had a gun, and was bitten to boot, and she still is!"

"I wasn't bitten!" yelled Clementine. "Not by a walker!"

"And Omid wouldn't have killed anyone unless they gave him a good reason!" stated Christa.

"Asking for help, that was a good reason?" bellowed Carlos.

"You weren't asking!" accused Christa.

"Your guy was going to shoot Carlos, I saw it," added Nick.

"He wasn't going to shoot anyone!" insisted Clementine.

"Shut the fuck up! All of you!" Pete's outburst managed to quell the bickering. "Jesus Christ. Now, let's start with the most pressing issue. You were bitten?"

"I wasn't…"

"Don't tell me about it, just show me." Clem looked to Christa, who simply nodded. Clem held out her arm to reveal her recently treated injury. Pete knelt down, groaning as he did so. Clementine noticed a large bandage on his left knee. He took Clem's arm and examined the newly made stitches. "That explains the screaming we heard."

"The wound's too big to be a walker bite," asserted Christa.

"Yeah, it is," agreed Pete. "How is it you two didn't notice?"

"They didn't even look at it," informed Christa.

"I wasn't all that concerned with the welfare of someone who pointed a gun at your nephew," said Carlos.

"You aimed a gun Nick?" Clementine looked away from Pete in shame.

"Yes," she said weakly.

"All right, we'll come back to that." Pete let go of Clem's arm and then slowly stood back up, bracing his leg as he did so. "Carlos, seeing as your a doctor, how bout…"

"You're a doctor!" exclaimed Christa. "And you were still going to leave her out there in the cold with her arm cut open like that?" Carlos ignored Christa's outburst.

"As I was saying…" said Pete. "Carlos, take a look at her arm, make sure it's patched up right."

"I…"

"I'm not asking you." Carlos groaned and knelt down to examine Clementine's injury.

"Your suturing skills could use work," said Carlos.

"Well next time you can just do it yourself." Carlos ignored Christa's comment.

"She closed the wound though, it just needs to be bandaged," commented Carlos. "Now I want to know. How did you get in here?" Carlos's stare made Clementine hesitant to answer.

"Are… Are you gonna lock me in the shed again?" she asked nervously.

"Just answer the…"

"If you're not bitten I don't see the need for that," interrupted Pete. "But we still need to know how you got in."

"I… I dug under the wall," recounted Clementine. "Then I climbed on top of the porch and came in the window."

"If you weren't bitten we would have let you out in the morning," reminded Carlos. "You could…"

"I was freezing," interrupted Clementine. "And my arm was bleeding. And it wouldn't stop hurting. And… it felt like I was going to die." Christa comforted a distraught Clementine while the others seemed momentarily stunned by her confession.

"Nick, tell me you didn't know anything about this," pleaded Pete.

"He was the one who locked me in there." Pete looked at a guilt-ridden Nick.

"Jesus Nick…"

"You told me to back up Carlos," reasoned Nick.

"Yeah, because I thought you'd use some god damn sense," barked Pete.

"You're lecturing him on common sense?" retorted Carlos. "She's the one who pulled a gun, after Nick put his down. If anything he shouldn't have assumed that she was no threat just because she was a girl."

"Sounded like she did something stupid, but I'm not for leaving her to die on just that," rationalized Pete. "Hell, that's the kind of thing we were trying to get away from."

"You're trying to get away from, my one and only concern is protecting Sarah," said Carlos.

"Is that the girl in my room?" Clementine's question seemed to enrage Carlos.

"How do you know about her?" he asked in a low growl. "Did you go near my daughter? What did you do?" Clementine cowered before Carlos's increasingly hostile questions.

"I've had enough of you talking to her like that!" Christa put herself between Carlos and Clem. "You people kill Omid, take me prisoner in my own house, leave Clementine to suffer, and you're worried about what she did to you!"

"I swear, if you did anything to Sarah, I'll…"

"Carlos, if you're so god damn worried about Sarah why don't you go check on her?" suggested Pete. "She's literally just down the hall."

"I…" This simplicity of Pete's suggestion seemed to catch Carlos off guard, leaving him at a loss for words. He briefly looked at a bitter Christa, then stood up and left the room.

"All right, now that we've gotten rid of him for a minute. I'd like to hear the girl's side of the story." Clementine watched as Pete righted the knocked over chair in the corner.

"You're gonna trust her?" asked a skeptical Nick.

"She seems like she's been pretty straight forward with me so far, which is more than I say for you and Carlos today." This comment clearly irritated Nick. "And I'm pretty confident I could catch her if she tries any bullshit."

"Yeah, you're real hard asses, picking on a little girl," mocked Christa.

"I ain't picking on anyone, I just want to know what happened. So let's sit down, and talk." Pete sat down, bracing his bandaged knee as he did so. "All right, now...ah!" The chair collapsed out from under Pete, dropping him onto the hard wood floor. "God dammit!"

"Pete, you okay?" asked Nick.

"What happened?" inquired Carlos as he rushed back into the room.

"Damn chair broke." Pete removed what was left of the seat from under him. "I'm fine. Just go check on Sarah." Carlos took his leave while Pete tossed aside what was left of the chair. "Guess I'll just sit on the floor. Now, Clementine is it?" Clem nodded. "Real quick, give me a short version of what happened between now and when you ran into my people."

"A dog bit me while we were in the woods. Omid was bringing me to the cabin, but then he saw two people. They were far away so he used the gun to see them better. But I don't think he would've shot anyone."

"But you're not sure?" asked Pete.

"Well...no. But he was really nice. I don't think he would've shot someone without finding out who they were first. He was going to tell me what he was going to do." Anger crept across Clementine's face. "But then someone shot him."

"Carlos told me circle around back while he was talking to her." Nick gestured to Christa. "When I came around the side of the house, I saw the glint from a rifle scope. When I saw that guy aiming at Carlos I…" Nick stopped suddenly, as if he was having trouble remembering what happened next. "I just pulled the trigger."

"It sounds like you made the right call to me," concluded Pete.

"The right call?" exclaimed Christa. "She just told you…"

"Look lady…"

"Christa."

"Christa," corrected Pete. "Pointing guns at someone for any reason other than possibly shooting them was a bad idea before the dead started walking around."

"He…"

"If you had seen one of us off in the distance aiming a rifle at him, would you have waited to see if we were just looking at him?"

"I'd…" Christa found herself at a loss for words, only able to answer Pete with a look of aggravation.

"What happened next?"

"I saw people coming towards me," recalled Clem. "So I hid behind a tree. When I tried to look out, he was aiming a gun at me."

"I heard something and figured there were more of them," explained Nick. "I didn't know it was a kid. I put it down when I saw her face. Then she comes out of hiding and pointed a gun at me."

"And why'd you do that?" Pete's clam tone wavered with that question.

"I don't know," repeated Clem.

"That's not a good answer," insisted Pete.

"I was scared," said Clem.

"I put the gun down. I wasn't going to hurt you," insisted Nick.

"I… I was angry too," confessed Clem. "I could still see his body on the ground and I just wanted to…" Christa and Nick shared a look of concern as Clementine trailed off.

"Just wanted to what?" asked Pete.

"I… Um…"

"Please, just leave her alone," pleaded Christa in a concerned voice. "She's just a child, she was in pain, she lost someone she cared about, she didn't know who you people were and she wasn't thinking straight."

"And she had a gun," added Pete. "That's a dangerous combination."

"I'm… I'm sorry," cried Clementine. "Please, please don't lock me back in the shed." Pete looked at mud stained, blood splattered, rain soaked, sobbing little girl with the freshly treated arm wound and sighed.

"Seeing as nothing happened this time, I'm willing to give you the benefit of a doubt that you probably make better decisions when you're not dealing with so much shit all at once," said Pete with a hint of sympathy. "And for the record, Carlos was right. You shouldn't have taken your sights off her until after you knew she wasn't armed."

"I didn't think…"

"No, you didn't." Pete's comment further annoyed Nick. "So, moving on, what happened next?"

"Carlos took my gun. Then he said I'd have to stay in the shed until morning because he thought I was bitten," recounted Clem.

"And you went along with this?" Pete turned to Nick.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea," said Nick.

"I didn't ask whose idea it was," snapped Pete.

"Why are you getting on my case?" asked an indignant Nick. "You heard her. She wanted to shoot me."

"Like I said, she did something stupid, but I ain't willing to let a kid die over just that anymore than I'd let you die over being stupid," stated Pete.

"I didn't even want to leave her in the shed," said Nick. "I tried talking to Carlos about it but he said it was too big a risk."

"She can't weigh more than a hundred pounds, even soaking weight," noted Pete. "And if you bothered checking her arm you would have known it wasn't a lurker bite."

"Carlos wasn't having it."

"Then you should have insisted."

"To Carlos? You know what he's like."

"God dammit Nick, I can't be holding your hand all the damn time. Especially not now," said Pete. "You really think Carlos is going to be the worst of our problems? If you can't handle him how do you ever expect to survive out here?"

"Hey, I can handle him," boasted Nick. "It's just…"

"Unbelievable!" Carlos shoved his way past Nick and headed right for Christa and Clementine. "You barge into my girl's room and scare her half to death. And that screaming practically brought her to tears."

"Brought her to tears?" repeated Christa in disbelief. "How the fuck do you think Clementine felt!"

"I think Sarah will survive the ordeal of hearing someone else going through hell," quipped Pete in a sarcastic tone.

"Don't patronize me!" snapped Carlos. "You know what Sarah's like. How she gets. If she ever saw how bad things are, it would destroy her. And I'm not letting that happen!"

"You'll just let some other girl bleed to death instead," snapped Christa.

"I've have enough of you," snarled Carlos. "I don't want you or your daughter anywhere near mine."

"You're the ones who came to us!" reminded Christa. "We don't want anything to do with you people. And Clementine's not my daughter. But if you go near her again I'll kill you."

"So, that guy wasn't her father?" asked Nick, sounding somewhat relieved.

"No, he was this child's father!" Christa gestured to her stomach, an act which startled Nick.

"You being pregnant or her being a girl doesn't excuse what you've done!" stated Carlos.

"What we've done?" retorted an indignant Christa. "You kill the man I love, take me prisoner in my home and leave a wounded girl out in the cold to die!"

"I'm getting real tired of this," interjected Pete as he stood up.

"Oh, you're tired of this?" asked an annoyed Christa.

"Yes I am," responded Pete in a harsh tone.

"I don't want them in this house," said Carlos.

"I don't give a goddamn what you want," stated Pete.

"I don't have to stand for this!" snarled Carlos.

"You do if you want me and Nick's help," asserted Pete. "If that's not the case, by all means, go get Sarah and leave."

"How bout you all just leave?" suggested a bitter Christa.

"Fraid that's not an option," said Pete. "My people are in no condition to move right now and we need some time to resupply."

"You need?" asked Christa. "What about…"

"We're not leaving tonight," declared Pete. "And we're not kicking them our either," Pete told Carlos before he could open his mouth. "What happened was unfortunate, but it's in the past now."

"The past?" said Christa. "It was earlier today!"

"I'm just saying, there's no taking any of it back now," clarified Pete. "So why don't you come downstairs and we can all discuss how this is gonna work."

"Why not just do that right here?" asked Christa.

"I figure the little one might like a little time to herself." Pete gestured to Clementine, who was sitting quietly on the floor with a sullen look on her face. "Let her get cleaned up in peace," he suggested in a sympathetic tone.

"Let me get her a change of clothes first," said Christa in a calmer voice. "She's got an extra set in her room."

"I'll get them," insisted Carlos. "I don't want you frightening Sarah anymore than you already have." Christa glared at Carlos as he exited the room.

"We'll be waiting downstairs," informed Pete. "Just head on down when you're done helping your girl." Pete gestured to Nick and the pair stepped outside. Christa sat down next to Clementine and placed an arm on the girl's shoulder.

"How you feeling sweetie?" asked Christa in soft voice.

"Bad," answered a downcast Clem. "Really bad."

"Yeah, me too."


	10. A Time to Reflect

"How's your arm feeling sweetie?" asked a deeply concerned Christa.

"It still hurts, a lot" answered Clem. "But, I guess it's a little better than before."

"I'm so sorry about that Clem," said Christa. "It'll take some time for it to get better. But now that it's closed up you're gonna be okay. We'll get you cleaned up and then you can get some rest. Okay?" Clem didn't answer. "And, here, I want you to take this." Christa retrieved a pill bottle from the first aid box.

"What is it?"

"It's an antibiotic." Christa placed a rather large capsule in Clem's hand. "You swallow that so you won't get an infection. They're leftover from Savannah, from when Omid's leg…" Christa begin to choke up upon mentioning Omid's name. "Come on, I'll take you to the bathroom. Then I've got a lot to tell these people." Christa took Clem by the hand and led her out the door. As they emerged into the hallway they saw Carlos approaching from the direction of Clementine's room.

"Here." Carlos thrust a pink shirt and a small pair of jeans into Christa's arms.

"It didn't scare your girl too much to give these up?" scoffed Christa.

"I'm serious when I said to keep away from her," reminded Carlos in a cold tone. "If either of you do anything to her, Pete won't save you." Carlos marched down the stairs without another word.

"Can you believe that man?" asked Christa. "Going on about his girl after what he did to you?" Christa walked with Clem to the bathroom.

"What a shock, they didn't steal our towels while they were at it." Christa set Clem's spare clothes on the sink and moved to the open window. "I can't believe what they put you through." Christa closed the window. "Okay, you get all cleaned up. And don't forget to swallow that pill I gave you. I'll be back in a minute." Christa gave Clem a final concerned look, then left her alone in the bathroom.

Clem locked the door and then moved to the mirror over the sink. It was dark so she could only see her reflection's outline. She moved in closer to the mirror, hoping to see more, when a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room. The sudden sight of her own reflection startled Clementine. Her face was completely caked in dried blood and dirt.

Clem instinctively reached for the towel and started scrubbing her face as hard as she could. As her eyes adjusted to low light, Clementine could see the rest of herself in the mirror. Her dress was more of a tattered rag than a piece of clothing at this point. It was only now Clementine realized her hat was gone. It must have come off some time during her escape.

Saddening as it's absence was, Clementine was presently more concerned with trying to clean off the layer of filth she had acquired. She wished the cabin had running water so she could just take a bath, instead all she had was handfuls of rain water from the window sill.

After cleaning herself the best she could, Clementine changed into the pink shirt and jeans Christa had left her. She usually didn't wear them because she liked her dress more, and the shirt was a little too big as well. But looking at what was left of her dress lying on the floor made Clementine realize it had probably seen it's last day.

Clem took the pill Christa had given her and put it in her mouth. Clementine had never actually swallowed a pill before, only having chewable or liquid medicines before. The size of the capsule made things difficult, seemingly choking Clem as tried to swallow. Eventually the pill worked it's way out of Clem's throat and into her stomach. All though it paled in comparison to what else she had suffered this day, swallowing the antibiotic proved to be yet another miserable new experience for Clementine.

Stepping back into the hall, Clementine wandered over to the handrail and looked down at the first floor. She couldn't see anyone, but she could hear Christa arguing with the others. She couldn't really focus on what they were saying, it just sounded like ambient noise to Clementine. As her eyes drifted across the hall, Clem noticed the door to her room was slightly ajar. As she looked more closely the door creaked open a bit more, revealing the girl with glasses was watching her through the opening.

Her eyes locked with Clem's, much to Clem's surprise. Clem could see a clear sign of concern on Sarah's face, as well as what looked like an inkling of curiosity. Clementine looked at the older girl, unsure what to think. She was expecting her to say something, but instead, Sarah just smiled at Clementine. It was a strange sight, but not an unpleasant one. It was then Christa came marching upstairs, prompting the girl to retreat back into Clementine's room.

"What they say?" asked Clementine, not particularly interested in the answer.

"They said they'll deal with getting food and water while they're here, and they'll give us our guns back when they leave in a few days," reported an aggravated Christa. "And here. That Nick guy found this when he went to check out the shed." Clem was surprised to see Christa holding her hat. "Surprised he didn't claim it as his own or something." Clementine eagerly took her hat back, only to find it was soaking wet. "You might want to wait for it to dry out before you put it back on."

"Yeah…" Clem was also disappointed to see how dirty it was. Covered in both blood stains and patches of mud.

"One other thing. Carlos refuses to move his daughter, so you'll need to stay in my room." Christa retrieved the first-aid kit and led Clementine to the bed room.

"Carlos also says we're not to talk about any of this in front of his kid." Christa sat down with Clementine and carefully grasped her arm. "He doesn't even want us mentioning the fact you're not my daughter in front of her." Clementine flinched as Christa applied the alcohol soaked rag to her arm again. It didn't hurt nearly as much as before, but it still hurt. "And we can't say anything about what they did to you." Christa removed a bandage from the first-aid box and started wrapping Clem's arm. "And especially not about what happened to Omid."

Christa finished wrapping Clem's arm and hastily closed up the first-aid box. Looking at Christa, Clem could see she was on the verge of tears. Looking away Clem noticed a pair of plates sitting beside Christa.

"What… What's that?" asked Clementine.

"Dinner." Christa slid one of that plates over to Clementine. It had a piece of cooked fish on it and a fork. "Apparently, they will be feeding us." The anger in Christa's voice was overshadowed by her sorrow. Clementine looked down at the plate. She was very hungry, yet she didn't really feel like eating. Reluctantly she took the fork and started cutting into the fish.

"They…" Christa covered her face with her hand, trying to hide how distraught she had become. "They said they'll bury him in the morning." Clementine watched Christa try to hold back her tears. Making little choked sobs in attempt to swallow her sadness. Clementine moved in close to Christa, who instinctively put her arm around the small girl. Christa held Clem close, who simply laid her head against the woman's pregnant belly. The ate their meals in quiet, then went to bed without a word between them.

The next morning, Pete did as he promised. He and Nick dug a grave for Omid, and buried his body beside the back porch. Christa was barely able to control herself as she watched what was left of the man she loved be put to rest. She bounced back between sobbing to herself and angrily staring at Nick, who seemed troubled by the funeral himself.

Clementine however couldn't find it in herself to cry. Seeing the man who had been so kind to her dragged into a shallow grave was a deeply saddening sight. Yet she didn't seem to have any tears left to spare even for someone she cared so much for. It was if she had used them all up already on all the other people she had already lost.

Finding it difficult to watch Omid be buried, Clem's eyes drifted skyward. It was actually a really nice day. It was sunny and not too cool. She could hear a few birds singing in the distance. There was a slight breeze blowing. The trees glistened from the fresh rain. And out of the corner of Clementine's eye, she could see the cabin. And in one the windows was the girl in glasses, watching the whole thing.


	11. A House Divided

The last three days had felt like weeks for Clementine, being mostly trapped in a single room with nothing to do all day. What little she had before to pass the time was now kept in the same room as Sarah, and Clementine didn't dare ask her father for any of it back. Other than occasionally gazing out the window, Clementine simply resigned herself to sleeping the hours away like Christa had been doing.

Christa herself had become incredibly quiet since Omid's burial, rarely saying more than a few words to Clementine, if anything at all. She almost never left her bed and Clem was even worried Christa would stop eating if she didn't bring her meals up to the bedroom.

Their new 'guests' had kept their word, providing Clem and Christa with enough to eat and drink each day. It was mostly fish, much like before, but the portions provided were a little greater than what Clem was use to and instead of just mushrooms there were roots and other bits of plants as well. It wasn't much, but seeing as it was the only time Clem got to leave the bedroom, it was all she really looked forward to at the moment.

Rolling out of bed, Clem was greeted by the familiar sight of the morning sun pouring in through the window, as well as the sight of Christa's back as she lay in bed. As Clem put her shoes and hat on, she watched Christa for any sign of movement. She knew the loss of Omid had been devastating, but with each passing day Clementine was becoming more convinced that Christa never wanted to get out of bed again.

"Um…" said Clem in a quiet voice. "I'll get breakfast. Okay?"

"Don't forget your antibiotic," spoke Christa in a disinterested voice. Clem moved over to the first aid kit and removed a pill from the bottle inside.

"Christa, what are we going to do when they leave?" Clem waited for an answer, but Christa said nothing. "I mean, do you still want to get things to bring back to the cabin? Or, should we just go somewhere else?" Again, Clem received no answer. "Christa, say something," pleaded Clementine in a pitiable voice.

"...should've stayed." Was all Clem could hear Christa say.

"What?" asked Clementine.

"Nothing." Clem just sighed and stepped out into the hall. Clem was hoping she'd get use to taking pills, but once again she found herself struggling to swallow one. She was however starting to understand why her dad called things that annoyed him, a pill. As Clementine moved down the stairs she could hear a couple of familiar voices coming from the kitchen.

"Oh, fish again?" asked a disappointed Sarah.

"We're roughing it now Sarah," spoke Pete. "Be grateful we have that."

"I am, it's just, I miss the meals we got back home."

"Sarah, I told you, we're going to a new home," explained Carlos. "Now eat your breakfast. You're a growing girl."

"I will." Clementine stepped into the kitchen, finding Carlos and Sarah eating while Pete and Nick fiddled with something that looked like a cone made out of three sticks and strips of tree bark. Clem found her way to a couple of plates set out for her and Christa. As she reached for a fork she noticed Sarah was smiling at her from across the table.

"Hi," greeted Sarah in a friendly voice. "I'm…"

"Sarah, what did I tell you about talking to the cabin's owners?" asked Carlos.

"I was just saying hi," explained an apologetic Sarah.

"Clementine and her mother were very generous to let us stay here." Clementine had to stifle the urge to groan out loud in response to Carlos's blatant lie. "The least you can do is not bother them."

"Your name is Clementine?" asked Sarah.

"Sarah, what did I just say?"

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"Why don't you just take your breakfast to your room?" suggested Carlos.

"Okay." Sarah picked up her plate and cup. "Bye, Clementine."

"Save some water to brush your teeth with," instructed Carlos.

"I will."

"I love you sweetheart," said Carlos.

"I love you too dad." After watching Sarah leave, Carlos pushed his plate aside and stood up.

"Hold up their doc," ordered Pete without looking up from whatever he was working on. "Don't you got an appointment to keep?"

"Her arm was fine yesterday," reminded Carlos.

"That was yesterday," answered Pete. "This is today."

"I doubt much has changed."

"Only one way to find out."

"Are you going to…"

"Carlos, you've got one damn job around here," lectured Pete. "If you'd shut up and do it already you'd be done right now." Carlos groaned.

"Let me see it." Clementine held out her left arm, allowing Carlos to hastily unwrap the bandage around it. Her arm was still sore, but it had been feeling a little better with each day.

"It seems to be healing fine, and there's still no sign of infection," reported Carlos.

"Does that mean I don't need to take antibiotics anymore?" asked Clem.

"If it hasn't become infected by now, you should be fine." Carlos started wrapping the bandage back around the wound. "Just keep it clean and covered, and try not to use that arm for now. The stitches can probably come out in a week." Carlos headed for the door.

"Hold up," ordered Pete. "Clementine, you don't have any other pressing injuries you need him to look at do you?"

"You're not serious are you?" asked Carlos in disbelief.

"Actually, I do have a loose tooth," reported Clementine.

"Carlos?"

"I'm not a dentist."

"You're a doctor. That's close enough. Just give it a quick look." Carlos groaned and turned back to Clementine.

"Which one is it?" Clementine opened her mouth and pointed to one of her molars. "It looks like a baby tooth. I'm sure it'll be fine. Now, if there's nothing else…"

"Actually." Pete looked up at Carlos. "Nick said you took a gun off her when we first got here, so I'm wondering, where is it?"

"It's somewhere safe," answered Carlos in a defiant tone.

"You just decided to put it up for some reason? Without telling us?"

"You've got your gun." Carlos gestured to the revolver holstered on Pete's hip. "And since you made it clear you wouldn't lend it to me again, even to save my life, I thought it prudent to have one of my own."

"That ain't your gun," reminded Pete. "It's going back with them when we're done here."

"Then you'll find it then," reasoned Carlos.

"I'd like to find it now," asserted Pete. "Call me crazy, but I like to keep track of where all our guns are."

"And I'd like to know more about these supposed 'preparations' you made for me and my daughter." Pete and Carlos stared at one another, each offering the other a look of mutual distrust. "But then, I guess you and your nephew like to keep secrets." Carlos left the kitchen.

"You didn't say anything to him, did you?" Pete asked Nick.

"No." Pete stared at Nick. "I didn't say shit to him. He's just being an asshole."

"No disagreement there," nodded Pete. "But do keep an eye on him. And if he suggests anything else crazy like before, have the sense to tell him off this time."

"God, you're never going to let me live that down," moaned Nick.

"I'm just saying. Be ready if Carlos tries anything. That's all."

"Yeah, yeah, I will." Nick noticed Clem was staring at him from across the table. "Why do keep looking at me like that?" Clementine looked down at her plate instead.

"You locked her in a shed while she was bleeding all over herself," reminded Pete. "Probably has some sore feelings over that."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? I am." Nick's hostile tone undercut his apology, doing nothing to make Clem feel better.

"You also shot someone she knew," reminded Pete. "So I wouldn't count on her being comfortable around you anytime soon."

"It's not like I wanted to do that either. Hell, I even helped bury him." Nick's voice wavered as he recounted his actions. "You.. You said it yourself, I did the right thing."

"I said you made the right call," clarified Pete. "That's not necessarily the same as the right thing."

"What's the difference?"

"The right call sometimes means you don't have the privilege of doing the right thing," explained Pete in a more somber voice.

"So I did the wrong thing," concluded Nick.

"I didn't say that," argued Pete. "I…"

"You didn't have to." Nick stood up and left in a huff. Pete turned to Clementine.

"Well, you managed to clear out the room." Clem sighed and picked up her plates. "Oh, sit down, will ya? Ain't no point in you leaving now."

"There's no point in me staying either," concluded Clementine.

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something," said Pete.

"About what?"

"About the possibility of us staying here for a while."


	12. A Modest Proposal

Clementine scowled at Pete, finding herself annoyed at just the suggestion that the people who had taken over her home and killed Omid also wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"Yeah, didn't think you'd be wild about that idea." The look on Clem's face made it clear to Pete what she was thinking. "Truth is, I'd rather be talking to Christa about this. But seeing as you're always the one picking up her meals, I figured she feels less like talking than you."

"She won't even talk to me most of the time," reported a saddened Clementine.

"Yeah, I figured it was something like that." Pete sounded a little upset himself upon hearing that. "I know you don't want anything to do with us, but, if you're willing, we could at least leave you a little better off then you'd be if we left ya right now."

"How?" asked Clementine, utterly unconvinced.

"Look, you know what this is?" Pete gestured to the odd conical stick contraption lying on the table.

"No."

"It's a fish trap." Pete tugged on the inside of the device, revealing it was actually made of two cones, with a smaller one placed inside the larger one. "You place some bait on the inside, fish swim through the hole, get stuck between the two halves, and you've got yourselves a meal. Easy."

"Can't they swim back out through the same hole?"

"Nope," smiled Pete. "Fish are stupid. They can't figure a way out unless it's obvious. I've got some other tricks I could show you and Carlos may be an asshole, but he is a good doctor. It'd take some doing, but I might be able to convince him to help deliver Christa's baby, if that's what you wanted." Clementine thought about Pete's offer, unsure how to answer.

"Do Nick and Carlos want to help us, or is it just you?"

"Well I can't speak for Carlos, all though I could take an educated guess and say he probably doesn't. But I know Nick would. He's actually pretty shook up over shooting your man."

"He doesn't act like it," noted Clem.

"That's just how he is. When something starts bothering him he tends to get real uppity. Bad habit he picked up from that rotten bastard of a father of his, but believe me, he's a good boy at heart." Pete saw the doubt on Clementine's face and sighed.

"Look, you want to hate someone for what happened, hate me, not Nick," asked Pete, desperation hanging in his voice.

"Why?" asked Clem. "You didn't shoot Omid."

"No, but I would've, and Nick only shot him because of what I said. I told him, you see someone taking aim at one of ours, don't hesitate."

"Does that mean you would have shot me when I aimed a gun at Nick?" Pete didn't answer, but his eyes carried a hint of regret. "Oh."

"I'd like to think I wouldn't just pull the trigger on a kid," Pete told himself. "But, I can't honestly say that I wouldn't anymore."

"So, you wouldn't have let them lock me in the shed, but you probably would have shot me before that." Pete sighed.

"Look, Clementine, I'd hate to tell you this, and I'm not saying it to scare you, but as bad you may think we are, there's far worse people than us out there, and they don't care how old you are. I know it's not fair, but kids don't really have the luxury of being kids anymore these days."

"I know," answered a downtrodden Clementine.

"Yeah, I kinda thought you might." Pete took a breath. "I've been trying to tell Carlos that, about Sarah. But he won't have it. Hell, should have seen the conniption fit he threw when he had to leave her with me a few days ago. First big spill and that poor kid is going to pieces."

"She seems nice," commented Clementine.

"Nice won't keep you alive," asserted Pete. "That's what I keep telling Nick. All though, considering that business with you and the shed, I'm starting to think maybe I've been telling him that a little too often lately."

"Than why don't you stop?" asked Clementine.

"Because I want him to survive this," answered Pete in a more thoughtful tone. "He had it bad enough before, hate to think that it was all for nothing." Pete looked to Clementine. "And too be honest, I'm not too keen on just up and leaving you and Christa without knowing you'll be all right first."

"Why did you even come here?" asked Clementine.

"Let's just say, we got sidetracked from our original plan," answered Pete. "I remember seeing this place from the freeway the first time me and Nick had to uproot ourselves. Figured it would be a good place to recuperate. Of course, I didn't know anyone was staying here at the time. Had I known what Carlos was going to pull, I would have just limped out here myself to meet you people."

"Why are you limping? What happened?"

"Wish I could say that's a long story, but it's not," mused Pete. "We were running, I tripped, smashed my damn knee on the asphalt."

"That's it?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah, I know," grumbled Pete. "Feel like a fucking idiot. An old fucking idiot. Next thing you know, I'm gonna fall and break my damn hip. I know I was starting to get up there in the years, but god damn, one stumble and suddenly every step hurts like hell."

"My arm hurt like hell. Oops."

"Oops?" asked Pete.

"I said a swear. Sorry."

"Hell? That hardly counts," smirked Pete. "You know, when I said kids can't be kids, there are a few perks that come with that. Least of which is not having to watch your language anymore."

"I don't know. My parents always told me nice people shouldn't talk like that."

"Well, my pa always told me to never trust a man who doesn't swear."

"I'm not a man," reminded Clem.

"Good point," conceded Pete. "But, you know, a little eloquent profanity can be pretty useful sometimes."

"How?"

"Well, take that nasty business with your arm getting sewed up for one. I've always found cussing up a storm helps to take the edge off of what pains ya."

"Really?" asked Clementine disbelief.

"Yeah really. Should've heard me when I banged my damn knee before. It ain't no cure all, but god damn if doesn't make things a little more manageable. Give it a try next time your find yourself really hurting."

"Okay."

"And a little precision swearing can really help make something stick when you're talking to someone particularly thickheaded, but only if you do it right."

"How do you swear right?"

"You gotta pick your moments. You swear every other word and people will just tune it out, but you drop it in at just the right time, and it'll really let them know you mean fucking business."

"Like, how you talk to Carlos?"

"Exactly," smiled Pete. "All though, I wouldn't recommend practicing on him."

"I won't." Clementine was afraid to even talk to Carlos, let alone swear at him.

"And lastly, it can feel pretty damn good to swear sometimes."

"It can?"

"Hell yeah. Just try it." Clementine felt apprehensive. She almost never swore, but she never had an adult telling her to swear to either. In fact, they always told her not to. "I won't tell no one, go on." Clementine smirked.

"Shit." Odd as it was, Clementine actually did feel a little bit better now.

"There ya go," chuckled Pete. "If you're willing to put up with us, I could teach you a lot more than the finer points of swearing you know." Clementine sighed. "I'm guessing that's still a no."

"I don't know."

"Look, I won't act like what happened was nothing, but trust me, you never do yourself any favors when you hold a grudge." Pete sighed. "All though, It's easy for me to say that from where I'm sitting, I didn't lose someone close to me recently."

"I just don't think Christa would like it."

"Yeah, I reckon she wouldn't." Pete took a breath. "Well, I'm not going to insist. Or, at least not anymore than I already have. Just, tell her what I said."

"I will." Clementine picked up the plate and headed for the door.

"Oh, one more thing," said Pete. "If she doesn't want us sticking around, then tell her if she's willing to help us with a little something, we could be ready to leave by tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Clementine took the extra plate back upstairs. She headed into the bedroom and walked around the bed to offer Christa her meal. "Here." Clem offered the plate to Christa, who just looked at it for a moment before slowly taking it without a word. As Clem thought how to approach Christa about what Pete said, she spotted a wadded up piece of paper in the corner.

"What's this?" Clem reached down to pick up the paper.

"Someone slipped it under the door," recounted Christa in a bitter tone. "Probably Carlos's daughter. Guess she thinks this a god damn game or something." Clementine uncrumpled the paper, noting her name had been written on the center of it. Flipping the page over, Clementine found a message. She had a little trouble reading cursive handwriting, but after studying it for a moment she understood enough to read 'I hope you feel better soon. Sincerely, Sarah.'

Clementine set the note down and looked at Christa, somewhat annoyed that she had thrown it away before Clem even had the chance to look at it. As she watched Christa set her plate down, Clem opened her mouth to speak.

"I was talking to Pete, and he said…"

"What?" snapped Christa. "I don't want you talking to these people Clementine. They're dangerous. You should know better than that by now." Clementine scowled at Christa.

"He was just saying," Clem tried to explain as calmly as possible. "He could help us a little before…"

"I think we've had enough of their help," snarled Christa.

"They're already here. If we just let them stay for a while then…"

"Then they'll never leave!" Clementine sighed.

"He also said if you help him with…"

"Help them?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"He said if you help they'll leave tomorrow morning," stated Clementine hastily, hoping to avoid yet another interruption. This offer did little to curb Christa's anger, but it did give her pause. She thought to herself, then stepped out of bed.

"Might as well see what they want," groused Christa as she put her shoes on. "Not like I got anything better to do." Christa trudged downstairs, with Clementine right behind her. The pair could see Nick, Pete and Carlos in the living room. Nick and Pete were checking their rifles while Carlos was telling them something. As the pair reached the bottom step, Carlos turned towards them and scowled.

"What do you want?"


	13. Mutual Disinterest

"Clementine said there's something I can do to get you people out of my house faster?" informed Christa as she glared at her captors.

"Right," answered Pete. "Well the thing is, I want to make sure we got enough food and clean water to last us and them for at least a few days."

"For them?" asked Carlos. "Why…"

"That part ain't up for debate," stated Pete in a firm voice. "The thing is, we could get a lot more done today if there were more than two of us making the trip. So I was thinking, she could look after Sarah, and you…"

"Are you insane?" barked Carlos. "Leave her alone, with Sarah?"

"Don't worry," scoffed Christa. "I won't lock her in a shed while you're gone."

"Come on Carlos," urged Pete. "You really think she'd try anything with Sarah?"

"She's not the one I have problem with," stated Christa.

"No, it's us," stated Carlos. "And you could use Sarah to get at me while I'm gone, or just ambush all of us when we get back. This is the exact reason I've been staying here while you two are gone, to make sure she or her girl doesn't try anything."

"He's got a point," noted Nick.

"You're taking his side?" asked Pete, annoyed at Nick.

"I ain't taking sides," insisted Nick. "I'm just saying, leaving them alone isn't the best idea. If they wanted to get back at us, this would definitely be the time to do it."

"Exactly," said Carlos.

"Well if you're worried about that maybe you shouldn't have barged in here in the first place," retorted an angry Christa.

"You see, this is exactly why I proposed this," reiterated an weary Pete. "I figured you'd both be eager to get away from each other a day sooner."

"And you also think I'd want to leave my daughter with the very same people I want to be rid of?" asked Carlos.

"What if I went with you?" suggested Clementine.

"What!" exclaimed Christa. "No, absolutely not."

"I can get water and food," insisted Clementine.

"I like that better than Pete's idea," commented Carlos.

"Well too bad, because we're not doing that," stated Pete.

"Why? Because it's too dangerous?" mocked Clementine.

"Because physics," answered Pete. "I get you're a tough kid, but someone your size can't carry half as much as someone Carlos's size."

"And half of that even when you consider her arm." Clementine tried to say something, but couldn't think of a rebuttal, instead she just crossed her arms in disappointment.

"How bout this?" suggested Pete. "I was gonna leave a couple of fish traps for the pair of ya, so how bout you come with me?" Pete gestured to Christa. "I can show you how they work, and the two of us could carry enough back to eat. Nick, you and Carlos could carry the water back."

"And what, leave Sarah alone?" asked Carlos.

"Not alone." Pete looked over to Clementine.

"Me?" she asked.

"Her?" reiterated Carlos in a less friendly voice.

"She could keep Sarah company for the day while the rest of us are getting what we need. Christa would be with me, and Nick with you, so all of us got a reason to cooperate just long enough to make it to tomorrow morning. So unless you're willing to just bring Sarah with us…"

"No, she had a hard enough time just getting here," insisted Carlos. "Plus, we'd be leaving them alone to prepare for our return."

"So, it's either this or another day or two of putting up with each other," said Pete.

"I'd rather get this over with," answered Christa.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for a pregnant woman to be carrying stuff that far?" asked Nick. "I mean…"

"Since when did you care?" barked Christa.

"I was just asking, Jesus," answered Nick in a defensive tone.

"If it would get you people out of here faster I'd carry you all out on my damn back," assured Christa.

"So that's a yes, what about you?" Pete turned to Clementine.

"I can stay with Sarah," said Clementine in a glum voice. "It's not like I can do anything else."

"Well Carlos?" Carlos seemed torn, struggling to come to a decision. "Look, you need to realize something, you're not just our doctor out here, you're an extra set of hands," explained Pete. "Nick and I can't do everything. So as long as you insist on Sarah staying behind, you're just gonna have to accept there will be times when we might have to leave her on her own for a little while. Letting her spend the day in a nice cabin with another kid seems like a pretty safe starting place for the both of you." Carlos groaned and turned to Clementine.

"If I do this, you swear not to hurt her?" asked Carlos.

"Why would I do that?" asked Clementine.

"Isn't hurting little girls more your thing?" mocked Christa.

"Sarah isn't like your girl," retorted Carlos. "She could never handle what she went through, Sarah could barely even stand hearing about just a fraction of it. When I say you don't hurt her, I mean you don't hurt her, in any way. You don't tell her what happened to you or why you're not with your parents or anything that could worry her. And you especially don't tell her what happened between us."

"God forbid she find out her father is a cold blooded asshole," commented Christa.

"You want me to leave her here, then that's what I want," asserted Carlos. "You swear to me you won't hurt her?"

"I won't," assured Clementine.

"You swear?" repeated Carlos.

"I swear I won't hurt Sarah," declared Clementine, annoyed she of all people was being asked to not hurt anyone.

"Any chance I can get you to promise the same for Clementine?" asked a scornful Christa.

"Enough," interjected Pete. "Let's get this over with so we can all move on with our lives."

"Let me just tell Sarah where I'm going." Carlos headed upstairs.

"Christa, you coming?" asked Pete as he and Nick went for the door.

"I just want to say goodbye to Clementine."

"All right, but keep it quick, we're burning daylight as it is." Pete and Nick left Christa alone with Clementine.

"Come on Clem, give me a hug." Despite still being a little annoyed with Christa, a hug sounded pretty appealing. Clem leaned in and reached her arms around Christa as far as she could. "Check under the back porch."

"What?"

"I saw Carlos stashing something there through the window a couple of days ago," whispered Christa in a tense voice. "Once we're all gone, check it out."

"But, what am I suppose to…" The sound of the upstairs door closing caught the pair's attention. Christa let go of Clementine as Carlos came down the stairs.

"I told her you'll be up in a minute," informed Carlos. "Don't forget what I said to you."

"What are we suppose to do while you're gone?" asked Clementine.

"I don't know, just… distract her. Whatever it takes to keep her busy until I get back." Carlos turned to Christa. "Are you coming?"

"Like I got a choice." The pair exchanged angry glances, then headed for the door. Clementine watched as they joined Nick and Pete and started marching into the forest. As they disappeared from view, Clem closed the door. She waited a moment, then headed for the back door.

Clem stepped outside, moved off the porch and peered underneath. Even in the morning sun it was hard to see anything. She could probably crawl into the space, but then she realized Carlos couldn't, so whatever she was looking for wouldn't be that far under the porch.

Instead, Clem started feeling around for anything other than dirt. She wrapped her arm around the corner post to search under the steps where she couldn't see anything, but all she pulled back was a slightly dirtier hand then she started with. Not sure what she was looking for, Clem considered going back into the cabin. But figured she'd at least try the other side of the steps first.

Moving across the porch, Clem caught sight of Omid's grave. She paused briefly as she looked at it, then hurried to the side of the steps, eager to get her task over with. She reached inside, expecting to find nothing, but her fingers briefly touched something smooth. Clem stretched out and found something cold and metal in her grip. She pulled her arm out and found a gun, her own gun no less.

Clem wondered to herself what to do with it. Her first instinct was just to keep it. It was hers after all, and Pete said they were giving it back when they leave. She'd just be taking it back early. But if Carlos placed it here, he might notice it missing when he came back for it. Clem wasn't sure what he would do after that, but knowing him, it probably would be something bad.

After a bit of thought, Clem decided to keep it for the time being. Reasoning if it was discovered missing, she could give it to Pete and he would likely protect her from Carlos. She also figured she could just deny having found it. Seeing as Pete was looking for the same gun already, Carlos might suspect him instead of her.

Her small mission completed, Clem went back into the cabin and headed upstairs. Not wanting to meet Sarah with a gun in hand, Clem stopped in Christa's room first and hid it under the bed. After that she moved back to the end of the hall. Clem knocked on the door before turning the knob and letting herself in. She saw Sarah sitting on the bed, with her knees pulled up to her chest and a distressed expression on her face.


	14. Play Date

"Um, hi." Clementine approached the bed slowly, unsure what was bothering Sarah. "Are, are you okay?" Sarah didn't respond immediately, instead only noticing Clementine a few seconds after she introduced herself.

"Oh, hi," greeted Sarah in a nervous voice.

"Are you okay?" repeated Clem as she sat down next to Sarah.

"I… I just get… kinda nervous, when my dad isn't around," explained Sarah slowly. "That's all."

"He's coming back," reminded Clementine.

"I know," answered Sarah, her voice easing back into a more relaxed tone. "I just got kinda worried when he left, and when you didn't come right up, I guess I got scared." Sarah let go of her legs and just let them hang off the edge of the bed. "Now that you're here, I feel okay."

"Well, that's good," Clem assumed.

"I'm Sarah," she introduced.

"I know."

"Oh, right, duh, my dad said it right in front of you," remembered Sarah. "And your name is Clementine?"

"Yeah."

"That's a really pretty name."

"Thanks, I guess."

"It's great that you're here." Sarah smiled.

"It is?" shrugged Clementine.

"Yeah, I mean, do you know how long it's been since I saw another girl my age?"

"We're not the same age," noted Clem. "You're older than me."

"Well, yeah, but I just mean it's nice to meet another girl who's not a grown up. It's hard being the only girl, you know?"

"Yeah, it is," agreed Clem.

"How old are you? I'm going to be fourteen in May."

"I guess I'm still nine."

"You guess?"

"We lost track of the days after we came out to the cabin," said Clem. "But it's still winter, so…"

"When's your birthday?"

"August twenty-ninth."

"You're almost nine and a half."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's almost March," informed Sarah. "There was this guy who always announced the date at where I lived before."

"Where did you live before?" asked Clementine, sensing an opportunity to finally learn more about these people who've so changed her life in the last few days.

"It was just some warehouse a bunch of people were staying at," answered Sarah. "Not much ever happened. Most of the time it was kinda boring to be honest."

"Then why did you leave?"

"My dad told me it wasn't safe anymore, so, we left one day with Pete and Nick. It's really nice of you and your mom to let us stay here." Clem just sighed quietly in response. "And it's really sweet of you to let me stay in your room while we're here too."

"Yeah, well, we're just really nice people I guess," reasoned Clementine, annoyed at having to play along with such transparent lies.

"And since our stuff keeps getting mixed up, I've been setting aside everything that looks like yours." Sarah stood up and picked up something sitting next to the dresser. "I figured this had to be yours." Sarah offered Clementine a familiar looking backpack decorated with pink and yellow flowers.

"It is." Clementine was surprised to see it again. "Um, thanks."

"I put your books and paper in there."

"You could keep the books if you want," suggested Clem. "I've already read them."

"So have I."

"You read them before?"

"No, just in the last couple of days."

"You read both of them in a few days?"

"Yeah, there's not much else to do around here."

"So I guess you don't want them either."

"No, I'd love to keep them."

"Why? You already read them."

"You never reread your books?"

"No, why would I? You already know what's going to happen."

"Yeah, but it's still fun to read it again. And sometimes, you notice things you didn't the first time."

"Like what?"

"There was this one book where a wizard talks some people into going on an adventure to get some treasure. And it was a fun adventure, but when I reread it, I realized the wizard was just kinda using the treasure to get these people to help him do all these important things that made the world better, and it felt like a different story when I read it that time."

"Huh, I guess I never thought about it like that."

"Why don't you just keep them then? That way you can try it."

"Okay." Clementine eyed the dresser. "You haven't looked in there, have you?"

"My dad took some clothes out of it for you, but I haven't touched it." Clementine moved over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Her drawings and her radio were still there. "Did you need some more clothes?" asked Sarah.

"No, it's just..." Clementine quickly stashed the drawings and the radio in her backpack. "There was just a couple of things in here I didn't want to lose." Clementine zipped up her backpack and returned to the bed.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know," answered Clementine.

"What do you normally do for fun?"

"I don't know," repeated Clementine.

"You don't know?"

"I just… haven't done anything fun in a while I guess."

"Why? Is something bothering you?"

"No," denied Clementine.

"You sure? You looked really sad when I saw you this morning."

"I just…"

"You… You didn't know that person Nick and Pete were burying? Did you?" This questioned surprised Clementine. She wasn't sure what to say. In addition to Carlos's warning, just asking about this topic was clearly upsetting Sarah, and it didn't make Clementine feel any better either.

"No, I didn't know him," denied Clementine. "He was…"

"Was… Was he one of the dead people?"

"Dead people?" asked Clementine. "You know about the walkers?"

"Is that what you call them?"

"Yeah, because their dead, but they keep moving anyways."

"I usually heard people call them lurkers, because they're always waiting around to get people. Like monsters."

"Yeah. They do that too."

"So, was it one of them they buried?"

"Um… Yeah. It was."

"Oh, okay." This answer didn't seem to satisfy Sarah. "Why were they burying him then?"

"Well... you know, it was, sad," reasoned Clementine. "He was probably a really nice man, and then something happened to him and he became a dead person…" Clementine trailed off, finding herself struggling to keep her composure. "So, they figured they should at least bury him."

"That is sad." Clementine held her tongue, desperately suppressing the urge to tell Sarah how sad it really was. "But it was really nice of Nick and Pete to bury him."

"Yeah, sure," scoffed Clem.

"Is it true if a dead person bites you, you turn into one of them?" Clementine looked to Sarah. She had a curious look on her face, with a hint of fear in her eyes. Clementine thought about what Carlos had told her, then answered.

"Yeah, it's true." Clementine reasoned Sarah already knew this, so she wasn't telling her anything new. Still, the answer clearly bothered the older girl.

"That's so scary," said Sarah in a hushed voice.

"Yeah… it is." Clem answered in a saddened voice.

"Is that how they make more of them?"

"Actually, unless something happens to your brain, you come back as one of them no matter how you die," stated Clem in a detached tone.

"Really?" asked an unsettled Sarah.

"Yeah. It's going to happen to all of us."

"Don't say that."

"It will," stressed Clementine. "It's just what happens now. It'll happen to me and you someday too."

"Don't say that," repeated an increasingly frightened Sarah.

"It's true." Clementine shrugged.

"But you don't have to say it," rationalized Sarah. "My dad says if you can't do anything about something, then you should just not think about it. It be like, thinking about how the sun will explode someday."

"But the sun's not going to explode," said Clementine.

"Yes it will," stated Sarah.

"No… No it won't," answered an uncertain Clementine.

"Yes it will," repeated Sarah. "That's what happens to stars. They eventually burn out and explode."

"Wha… really?" Clementine found this revelation a little unnerving.

"Yeah. But it takes a super long time for it to happen."

"How long?"

"My dad said it's like a billion years."

"Oh." Clementine found that tidbit mildly comforting.

"It'll be really terrible for everyone living a billion years from now, but since we can't do anything about it, we should just try not to think about it."

"Kinda hard to not think about something when it's always bothering you."

"What's bothering you?" Clementine thought about Sarah's question.

"My arm," she answered. "It still kinda hurts. And I'm not suppose to use it either."

"Did that thing I bring you help at all?" Just thinking about that night made Clementine flinch.

"Yeah, it helped," answered Clementine.

"Well that's good, because I got in a lot of trouble for that," said Sarah in humbled voice. "My dad was super mad at me for talking to you without telling him first."

"Really?" Clem found Carlos positively frightening when he was angry. She never imagined he acted like that to his own daughter. "What did he do?"

"He said he was really really disappointed in me and that he expects me to do better because he loves me."

"Really?" asked an underwhelmed Clementine.

"Yeah, he can be really strict sometimes." Despite sounding like an incredibly lenient punishment, Sarah appeared wracked with guilt from recounting her father's talk. "You said you wouldn't tell."

"I didn't tell," said Clem. "I just, kinda let it slip out that I saw you that night. I didn't mean to."

"Well, I guess it's okay if it was an accident, because you didn't mean to tell then," reasoned Sarah. "And with the way your arm was, it was probably hard to think."

"It was."

"I heard you screaming that night and I… I thought you were dying."

"Christa had to give me stitches."

"Is that your mom?"

"Yeah, Christa's my mom," lied Clem. "I wanted her to stop so bad she had to hold me in place for the last two stitches."

"I can't imagine how much that must have hurt."

"It hurt more than anything in my life."

"I'm so so sorry Clementine."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, I just feel really bad that happened to you." Looking at Sarah, Clem could see Sarah was bothered by what had happened. She didn't look frightened like when she saw the injury, but saddened by the news of Clem's suffering. "You could have asked my dad for help. He's a doctor." Clem rolled her eyes upon hearing that.

"Yeah, okay," mumbled Clem.

"But if there's anything I can do to help, you can ask me too," said Sarah. "I mean, I can't do a whole lot, but if you think anything, just let me know."

"I don't think there's anything you can do for me today."

"Well, maybe you'll think of something tomorrow."

"But you won't be here tomorrow."

"I won't?" asked Sarah. "Why not?"

"Because you're leaving tomorrow."

"I am?"

"You're dad didn't tell you?" Sarah shook her head. "Oh, I thought he did."

"I guess he forgot." Sarah seemed disappointed by this news. "It's too bad. I was kinda hoping we could be friends."

"Sorry," shrugged Clem.

"Well, if I'm leaving tomorrow, we should do something special today," reasoned Sarah, some enthusiasm returning to her voice.

"Like what?"

"Well, does that still work?" Sarah pointed to the camera on the dresser.

"I think so, but I never actually tried it."

"Let's try it right now." Sarah collected the camera from the dresser. "Try and take a picture of me. If it works, I can take one of you, and then we'll have something to remember each other by." Clem took the camera and aimed it at Sarah. "Cheese." Clem pushed the button. The camera's flash didn't go off, but it made a clicking sound followed by a whirring and then finally a photo slid out of the front of the camera. Sarah eagerly took the photo and watched it closely.

"Look, it's working." Clem examined the photo. She could see the outline of Sarah's image beginning to develop. "Okay, now I'll take yours." Sarah set the photo on the dresser and took the camera from Clementine. "Smile." Clementine just sat there, waiting for Sarah to take the picture. "Come on, you gotta smile."

"I don't feel like smiling," said Clem.

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"What if I made you smile?" teased Sarah in a playful voice.

"You can't make me…" Clem suddenly found Sarah's fingers under her chin, tickling her. "Hey, don't!" Clem couldn't stop herself from chuckling as she tried to push Sarah's hand away. Sarah immediately honed in on Clem's armpit, tickling the girl even harder. "St-stop!" croaked Clementine between laughs. Sarah pulled her hand back and hastily snapped the photo.

"See?" smirked Sarah as she grabbed the photo. "Don't you…"

"Why'd you do that?" asked an angry Clementine.

"I… I was just trying to cheer you up," explained Sarah in a penitent voice.

"I don't want you to cheer me up!" Clementine's words wounded Sarah, who looked away from Clem in shame.

"Oh...okay." The photo fell out of Sarah's hand and onto the floor. "I… I'll just leave you alone." Sarah turned away and set the camera on the dresser. "And, I'll just tell my dad we spent the day together, so we don't get in trouble."

Clementine looked down at the photo. It had developed enough where she could see the outline of her laughing with a wide grin on her face. Clem then looked up at Sarah, who was standing quietly in the corner with her backed turned, as if she was punishing herself for a mistake.

"I'm… I'm sorry," professed Clementine, her voice laced with guilt. "It's nice that want to cheer me up. But… but you just can't. Okay?" Sarah turned around.

"Why not?" she asked.

"It's…" Clementine struggled to find the words. But not because of what Carlos said, but just because of how hard Clem found it to explain. "It's just not the kind of thing where you can just cheer someone up. Okay?"

"Why? What happened?" Clementine could hear the concern in Sarah's voice, but she couldn't bring herself to answer the older girl, instead turning away. Thoughts of her parents, Lee, and now Omid started filling Clem's head. She felt a swell of emotion building in her as she couldn't stop thinking about all the people she ever lost.

"Clementine." Clem looked back to Sarah, who had taken a few steps closer. The older girl still looked concerned, but she also seemed calmer now then a minute ago. "If, something bad happened to you, but you don't want to talk about it, because, it makes you feel bad, you can just tell me that, and I'd understand." Clementine looked into the older girl's eyes and found a sincerity in her gaze that seemed to ease Clem's racing mind, if only slightly.

"You… you would?" stuttered Clem.

"Yeah." Sarah sat down next to Clem. "Is that what you want to do?" Clem nodded to Sarah. "Okay. I just won't ask you about things like that."

"Thanks Sarah."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

"It's not you," assured Clementine. "It's a lot of things."

"Yeah. Things are so much harder now." Clem looked over to Sarah, wondering if she had any idea just how hard it really could be. "I wish we could just go back to the way things were."

"I do too. But I don't think it'll ever happen." Clementine reached down and picked up the photo Sarah dropped. "But, you know, it's not always bad." Clementine handed it back to Sarah. "Sometimes, good things still happen." Sarah looked at the photo of Clem laughing.

"You're not mad?" asked Sarah.

"Not at you." Sarah smiled, then pocketed the photo.

"Does this mean you still want to spend time with me?" Clementine smiled.

"Sure. What do you want to do?"

"Well, why don't we play a game?" suggested Sarah. "How about hide and seek?"

"Aren't you kind of old to want to play that?"

"Am I?" asked Sarah, genuinely curious.

"I didn't think thirteen year olds liked to play hide and seek."

"Well, don't nine year olds like to play hide and seek?" Clem made a face, mildly annoyed at her own logic being turned against her. "Come on, there's not much else we can do. I mean, if you're afraid you're going to lose, I…"

"I'm not afraid," interjected a defensive Clem.

"I just mean, if you didn't want to play against someone older, I'd understand."

"Why does you being older matter?" asked Clementine. "Being older doesn't help with hide and seek. In fact, me being smaller means I could hide better."

"Yeah, but I might be faster because I'm bigger."

"You don't know that."

"Does this mean you want to play?" A determined expression crept across Clementine's face.

"You hide first," dictated Clementine.


	15. Fun & Games

"What's home base?" asked Sarah.

"How about the couch in the living room?" Clementine and Sarah left their room. "That's pretty much the middle of the house." Reasoned Clementine as they descended the stairs. "And you got to hide in the cabin. No going outside."

"I'm not suppose to go out anyways," said Sarah. "How long do I have to hide?"

"Until I count to ten."

"What? That's not enough time to find a good hiding spot."

"You'll just have to think fast," smirked Clementine.

"Come on. It's more fun if you get more time, because then you can find a really good hiding spot. And it's more fun for the seeker too if you have to really look for someone." Clementine considered Sarah's argument. "How bout thirty?"

"Twenty," suggested Clem as a counter offer.

"Okay, but no counting fast. It's got to be one Mississippi, two Mississippi."

"Fine." Clementine sat down on the couch and covered her eyes.

"And no peeking. You…"

"One Mississippi." Clem's count was followed by a surprised yelp from Sarah and some very frantic footsteps. Clementine listened closely over her own counting, hearing Sarah run about the room in a panic. It was around ten Mississippi she heard Sarah running up the stairs. At sixteen the footsteps came to an abrupt stop. Clem smiled to herself as she neared twenty, already knowing Sarah was upstairs and it would be all too easy to catch her.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Clementine hopped off the couch and moved to the stairs. She took great care in ascending the steps, not wanting to alert Sarah to her presence prematurely. As she reached the top she noticed the door to the spare room was wide open. Clem crept along with great care, ready to pounce. She stopped just outside the threshold and prepared to strike.

Clementine charged into the room, ready to tag Sarah. But much to her disappointment the room was empty, aside from the chair Pete broke and a now boarded up window. Clem turned around just in time to see the door slam in her face. Too late she realized Sarah was hiding on the other side of the open door.

Clem pushed the door open and ran outside. Sarah was already flying down the stairs as Clem ran after her. By the time Clem reached the staircase, Sarah had already leapt over the handrail to skip the last few steps and threw herself onto the couch in a triumphant belly flop.

"Safe!" announced Sarah as Clem reached the bottom of the steps.

"Shit," swore the defeated nine year old.

"Clementine!"

"Oops."

"You shouldn't say that." Clem felt guilty about what she said, but only briefly.

"Why shouldn't I say shit?" challenged Clementine.

"What?" answered a confused Sarah.

"It's just a word," reasoned Clem. "I can say shit if I want to."

"My dad says people who use words like that don't have anything worth saying." Clementine pondered this characterization and after a swift internal deliberation, decided on a response.

"Bullshit." Clementine giggled as Sarah looked at her in a disapproving matter.

"Little girls shouldn't talk like that," repeated an annoyed Sarah.

"It's just words. It's not a big deal," insisted Clementine. "Come on. It's my turn to hide." Sarah sighed as she sat down on the couch. She took off her glasses, covered her eyes and started counting. Clem slowly started moving upstairs, taking great care not to make the same mistake Sarah did earlier.

Reaching the upstairs with a little over ten seconds to go, Clem moved down the hall to enact her plan. She opened the door to Christa's bedroom as wide as it would go, then back tracked to the spare room and carefully cracked the door. She moved over to the railing and watched as Sarah finished counting. Clem was ready to hurry down stairs if Sarah moved too far from the couch. If she came up, Clem could fall back into the spare room while the open bedroom door would distract Sarah.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Sarah sprung off the couch and immediately charged over to the closet under the stairs. She hastily searched it and then raced into the kitchen. Clem saw her opportunity. She quickly but quietly moved to the stairs. Clem was ready to race down, when she spotted Sarah charging back into the living room. Clem froze, watching for her opponent's next move. Sarah turned towards the stairs and Clem realized it was time to fall back. She moved to the spare room and slipped inside as quietly as possible, gently pushing the door closed once inside.

Clem could hear Sarah moving outside the door. She wasn't sure if she had been spotted or not so Clem listened closely, ready to try and evade Sarah if she entered the room. Slowly the footsteps moved past the door and further down the hall. Clem pressed her ear against the door, listening closely for Sarah's movement. She seemed to be moving more cautiously now, making it hard to tell where she was.

Clem waited patiently for more signs of movement, but she didn't hear anything. Was Sarah waiting on her, or was she checking one of the other rooms? After a lot of silence, Clem became impatient and decided to make a move. She very carefully cracked the door and peered outside. Before Clem could survey her surroundings, the door swung out from behind her. Clem spun around and found a gun pointed at her head.

"Bang! You're dead." Sarah tagged a shocked Clementine with her free hand. "I got you. That's…"

"What are you doing with that?" a frightened Clementine demanded to know.

"I found it in the other room," explained Sarah in a hasty manner, sensing Clem's distress. "I just thought…"

"You could have killed me!" exclaimed Clementine.

"No, I wouldn't do that," insisted a penitent Sarah. "I was just playing. I wasn't going to pull the trigger."

"You could have done it by accident!" This revelation seemed to shock Sarah, who went wide eyed upon receiving the news. Clementine put her hands on the gun and carefully removed it from Sarah's grip, which offered no resistance.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I… I…" Sarah hastily sat down on the floor. Clem watched as she pulled her knees up to her chest. "I… I…"

"Sarah?" said Clem, no longer angry.

"I… I should have listened to my dad," rambled a distraught Sarah. "He told me… He told me if I ever saw a gun… that I should never touch it. And I didn't listen to him." Sarah turned to Clementine. "You… You're not going to tell him are you?" asked Sarah in a meek voice. "I mean, I know it was really really bad what I just did, but I don't want to disappoint him again so soon after the last time." Sarah's request made Clementine realize it would be bad for herself if Sarah mentioned the gun to anyone.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Clementine, making an effort to not sound judgmental. "But I won't tell anyone if you don't."

"You'd do that for me?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah. I mean, last time you got in trouble, it was because you helped me. So, I kinda owe you one."

"I… I really don't like keeping things from my dad," admitted a conflicted Sarah. "Maybe I should just tell him the truth."

"Wait," instructed Clementine. "You don't want to get in trouble do you?"

"No, but, that was really bad, so…"

"Well, you know what you did was wrong right?" Sarah nodded at Clem. "So you already know not to do it again, and no one got hurt, so, you don't need to get in trouble." Sarah pondered Clem's rationale. "Nothing bad happened, so, let's just not tell him about it. We'll just pretend like it never happened, like, you never even found a gun."

"I guess that makes sense," said Sarah. "And, you'd forgive me for what I did?"

"Like I said, let's just not talk about," emphasized Clem.

"I'm so so sorry," sobbed Sarah. "I won't ever touch a gun ever again."

"Well, it's not that you should never touch guns. It's just…" Clementine looked at the gun, wondering how to explain it. "Don't be afraid of it. It's just a thing."

"What does that mean?" asked Sarah.

"I… I don't know," admitted Clem. "I just mean, you gotta be more careful with it."

"Have you ever shot a gun?" asked Sarah, more curious than scared.

"Yeah. I have."

"Wow," awed Sarah. "Well, maybe you could teach me how to use a gun then."

"Why?" asked Clementine.

"So if I ever find another one, I'll know what to do, and I won't do something wrong again like today." Clementine didn't know to how answer that request, concerned she had already told Sarah enough to upset Carlos as it was. "I wouldn't tell my dad about it. I know he wouldn't like it, and I hate keeping things from him, but, I'd hate it a lot more if I... killed someone by accident."

"Even if you did everything right with a gun, someone could still die." Clementine looked at her pistol. "It's just wouldn't be an accident then."

"Oh." The implications of what Clementine said caused Sarah to take pause. "Maybe, we could just skip those parts?"

"I don't think it works like that." Clementine stood up. "I'm just gonna put the gun up. Okay?"

"Yeah, that's probably for the best," realized Sarah. "I'll just forget about it, like you said." Clementine felt a bit guilty upon hearing that, as if she had denied Sarah something important, but she wasn't sure what else she could do. Clementine headed for the bedroom, ready to stash the gun back under the bed. She was about to set it down, when it dawned on her one person had already found the gun here.

Clem stood up, wondering where best to hide something she didn't want to lose again, then it hit her. Clem took off her backpack and placed the gun inside. Now she'd know where it was at all times. She was about to zip up her pack, when she noticed the end table by the window. The note Sarah had written her was still there from earlier. Reading it again, Clementine felt a little better. She picked up the note and placed it in her pack with the drawings.

As Clem moved to put her backpack on, she noticed something odd from the window. She could see someone in the distance running out of the forest and towards the cabin. At first she thought it was Nick, but as the person grew closer Clem could see it was actually a woman, and it wasn't Christa, and she was carrying a shotgun.

"Oh no." Clem instinctively retrieved her gun and hastily put her pack on. She hurried back into the hall where Sarah was waiting, who noticed the gun in Clem's hand.

"I thought you said…" Clem made a shushing motion as she approached. "What's happening?" whispered Sarah.

"Someone's coming," whispered Clem. "Listen, we…" A loud bang sounded from downstairs. Clem and Sarah peered over the railing and saw a young man with blonde hair enter the living room with a gun drawn. He methodically searched the area with great speed. Clem pulled away from the rail and started moving down the hall, when she noticed Sarah was still standing by the railing, petrified.

"Hey." Clem grabbed Sarah's hand, which seemed to bring the older girl back to her senses. "Come on." Sarah nodded slightly in response to Clem's whispering. With Sarah in hand, Clem led them both to the bathroom as quietly as possible. She closed the door and went right to the window. Sarah was taller, but Clem figured she could still fit. But as Clem opened the window, the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs caught the pair's attention.

More than one person was moving upstairs quickly, too quickly for both Clem and Sarah to bother with the trickery of jumping onto the back porch and climbing down the lattice. Clem aimed her gun at the door, unsure if she could shoot two people before they shot her. Looking at Sarah, it dawned on Clem that if she shot at these people, they might kill Sarah if they shot back. As the footsteps grew louder, Sarah covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to make any noise. Clem could see the absolute terror in the older girl's eyes, but she also noticed something else.

Just behind Sarah was a linen closet. Not wanting to waste another second, Clem quickly shut the window, opened the closet and motioned for Sarah to follow. The pair ducked down under the lowest shelf and Clem carefully closed the door from inside just as the bathroom door creaked open. Clementine watched through the narrow crack in the doors as she saw someone entered the room.

She could only see their legs, but she watched as he moved cautiously around the window, before heading towards the bathtub. She heard the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back. Panic gripped Clem as she watched this person approach the closet. She raised her gun, hoping she was ready for what came next.

"Byron!" called a woman's voice from across the hall. "Get your ass in here!" Clem watched in relief as she the saw the man's legs move away from the closet.

"Keep your voice down," responded the man in a hushed voice. "Someone might still be here." Clem left the closet and immediately moved to the window.

"Fuck that, look at this." Clem opened the window and gestured to Sarah. "Recognize her?" Sarah hurried to Clem's side.

"Um, no. Should I?" Clementine motioned to the back porch, cluing Sarah into the her plan.

"That's Carlos's daughter." Both girls found themselves stunned by the woman in the next room's announcement.

"I never met Carlos's daughter." Clem tugged on Sarah's sleeve, bringing her back to her senses.

"I did. I saw her get into with Gertrude's brat at Thanksgiving." Clem climbed out onto the window sill and hopped over to the back porch.

"You sure?" With great difficultly, Sarah climbed out onto the window sill.

"Fucking positive. It's her picture." Sarah struggled to find the courage to cross the gap to the back porch, having trouble looking away from the long drop just beneath her.

"George was right. They've been here." Clementine moved to the edge of porch roof and reached our her hand towards Sarah, waving it in hopes of getting the older girl's attention.

"They might still be here. They could be on their way back here right now." Sarah spotted Clementine and stretched out across the gap, grasping Clem's hand.

"Call George. I'll start tossing the house." Clem tugged on Sarah's arm, which finally seemed to prompt her to make the jump. Clem headed for the edge and started climbing down the lattice siding. Sarah followed in kind and the pair reached the ground in short time.

The two girls started moving towards the forest at a brisk pace, instinctively increasing speed as they drew closer to cover. As they crossed past the first few tress on the edge of the clearing they both took off running, trying to put as much distance between them and the cabin as possible.

Clementine struggled for breath as she ran as fast as she possibly could. She couldn't remember the last time she had to go this fast. Even after the dog bite, her injury prevented her from pushing herself to move this quickly. And yet Clementine couldn't keep up with Sarah, who was hastily pulling away from her with every step. Even with her heart pounding against the side of her chest, Clem couldn't hope to match the older girl's frenzied pace.

Clem was about to call out to her when the tip of her foot connected with a tree root and sent her tumbling across the dirt. The spill disoriented Clem, who felt dizzy as she sat up. As her head stopped spinning she noticed her gun sitting on the ground a few feet away. Clem crawled over to it and grabbed it. As she looked up she didn't see Sarah ahead of her anymore. A sense of dread crept up Clementine's spine as it seemed she was alone now, but it was quickly dashed by frantic footsteps approaching her from behind.

"Come on." Sarah grabbed Clementine's free hand before she could even respond and pulled the small girl to her feet. Sarah took off running again, actually dragging Clem behind her, who found herself being forced to run faster then she normally could. Her legs were moving so fast now she felt like she couldn't stop anymore, her chested ached from breathing so hard and Sarah pulling on her bandaged arm was becoming painful.

"Sarah! Stop!" Sarah came to abrupt halt while Clementine found herself being forced to stumble forward by the sheer momentum she was carrying. After a few awkward feet of desperately trying to not fall over, Clem managed to regain her footing. Finally at rest, Clem gasped for air, her every breath a deep one.

"Wh… wh… what happened?" stammered Sarah. "Wh… Whatta we do?" Clem tried to answer Sarah, but still could only manage to wheeze for air. "Where… where are we?" Sarah nervously surveyed her surroundings, finding only trees in every direction. "We're… we're lost."


	16. The Best Laid Plans

Clementine watched as a terrified Sarah slid down the trunk of the tree she was leaning against. She was trembling with fear as she pulled her knees up to her chest, taking one deep panicked breath after another.

"Sarah…" croaked Clementine, struggling to breath herself.

"We're lost and… and… alone… and… and..."

"Sarah…" repeated Clem, finally able to breath normally. "It'll be okay."

"Da… da… daddy," whimpered Sarah, oblivious to Clementine.

"Sarah?" The older girl didn't answer, transfixed by their predicament. "Sarah!" Clementine knelt down to look Sarah in the eyes. "Listen to me. It'll be okay."

"But… how?" Clementine tried to think of answer. "We're… we're going to die." Sarah started crying.

"We're not going to die." Clem's answer did nothing to placate Sarah, who kept sobbing to herself. Clementine looked around, nervous that someone would hear them. All she could see were trees in every direction, they really were lost. Clem herself started to feel frightened, realizing there wasn't much she could do. She looked down at the ground, hoping Sarah wouldn't see that she was upset as well. As Clem tried to hold back the sense of terror that was overtaking her, she noticed her own shadow.

"Sarah," said Clem, trying to remain calm. "We're not going to die. We'll find your dad, and the others."

"But, we don't know where they are," sniveled Sarah.

"I do." Sarah looked up in surprise.

"You… you do?"

"They went to the stream," reminded Clem. "That's north of the cabin. It's still morning, so north is that way." Clementine gestured to the right. "If we just keep going that way, we'll find the stream."

"But, what if they're not there?" asked Sarah.

"Well…"

"Or we run into those people. Or they come back to cabin, and those people…"

"Sarah," interrupted Clementine. "Just, don't think about that. Like your dad told you. Okay?"

"I… I can't," confessed a tearful Sarah. "I'm trying, but all I can think of…" Sarah trailed off, seemingly moments away from another breakdown. Clementine thought to herself, trying to think of anything she could say that would help.

"My dad…" Just thinking about her father pained Clem enough to hesitate. "He told me, when something seems impossible, try to find one thing that you know you can do, and just do it instead." Clem put her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "We can get to the stream. It's not that hard. All you have to do is walk for a while. You can do that, right?"

"I guess," answered an uncertain Sarah. "But what if…"

"Just focus on getting up and walking with me," repeated Clementine in a calm voice. "You can do that. Just, stand up. Okay?" Sarah looked at Clem for a moment, then slowly rose to a stand.

"I'm just… I'm so scared," admitted Sarah. "I don't think I've ever been this scared before. Are you scared?"

"I'm scared too," admitted Clem. "But we got to be strong."

"I'll… I'll try."

"If you have to think about something, try to think about something good. Like…"

"My dad?" Not what Clem would think of, but looking at Sarah's face, it clearly helped her find some comfort. "Yeah, think about seeing him again." This suggestion almost got Sarah to smile again. "Let's go. It's a long walk."

The pair started walking. First west for a short time. Clem wanted to make sure they avoided passing by the cabin in case their intruders were still waiting on them. Then they began moving north as planned. It was a long walk, longer than Clementine remembered it being a few days ago, but they pressed on.

Sarah would occasionally ask Clem how far they had to go, and all Clem could tell her is they would probably make it there before midway. Other than that, the two didn't speak. Sarah too nervous to carry on a conversation and Clem too preoccupied with their current predicament.

Despite what she told Sarah, Clem herself was finding it hard to not think about what they would do if they didn't reunite with the others. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, it felt more unlikely they'd ever find the stream, or anything other than more trees. The idea of she and Sarah being stranded ate away at Clem with every passing step. She couldn't even begin to comprehend what they would do if left on their own.

Sometime before noon, the pair were greeted by the distant sound of rushing water. Both girls started running, eager to finally see some sign of hope. A short jog delivered them in front of a small stream. Clementine wasn't sure if it was the same one she saw before. It looked familiar, but she hadn't seen many streams before, so she couldn't be sure.

"We made it," concluded Sarah, actually surprised at their success.

"Yeah," conferred Clementine, not wanting to express her doubts.

"But, where's my dad?" The girls scanned the area for any signs of their missing companions. They looked up and down stream for any recent signs of activity, but found nothing. "He's not here," said Sarah in a desperate voice. "None of them are."

"Um… We had to go west for a little while," remembered Clem. "Since they came straight from the cabin, they must be east of here."

"Are you sure?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah," assured Clem, uncertain herself. "Come on." It was still morning, so the pair followed the stream in the direction of the rising sun. Clem and Sarah both kept a close eye on the horizon, hoping to see anyone come into view. Even more the idea of being alone haunted Clem, weighing heavier in her mind as the sun crawled higher into the sky.

As they were walking along, Clem's shoe banged into a rock sitting next to the stream. Looking down, she saw there were several rocks arranged around a small hole dug into the ground. Clem recognized it as the same hole Omid had used to hold his fishing rod in place. They were definitely at the right stream, and probably the right place, but nobody was around. Clem sighed and looked up at Sarah, who was a few feet ahead looking off in the distance.

"Sarah." Clem paused, trying to think of what to say to her. "I…"

"I think I see someone," reported Sarah.

"Really?" Clem sprung to Sarah's side. "Where?"

"Way off in the distance." Sarah pointed downstream. "Do you see it? I think that's a couple of people." Clem could just barely see what seemed to be a few specks moving back and forth.

"It's hard to tell."

"It's gotta be dad and the others," insisted an eager Sarah.

"Maybe. But it could be…"

"Let's hurry." Sarah ran ahead of Clem. "Dad! Dad!" called a desperate Sarah at the top of her lungs.

"Sarah, no!" Clem ran after the older girl. "Wait, stop!" Sarah didn't heed Clem's warning. She watched as the two figures turned towards Sarah as she called for her father again. They definitely looked like people, but who they were was impossible to tell from the distance. Sarah kept yelling dad as she pulled further ahead of Clem, who couldn't keep up with the older girl. As the figures grew closer, she could see one was moving towards them. Clem stopped and looked at her gun, thinking she might need it soon.

"Sarah!" Clementine recognized that voice, it was Carlos, and probably the first time she was ever happy to hear it. They had found the others. Clem was ready to run over to them, when she realized she was still holding her gun. Clem took off backpack and stashed the gun. Then she started running after Sarah, who was far ahead of Clem at this point.

"Daddy!" Clem watched as Sarah flung herself into her father's arms. "I was so scared!"

"Don't be scared sweetheart," assured Carlos in a calm voice. "I'll keep you safe." As Clem neared the pair, she could see Carlos holding Sarah tightly and rubbing his hand up and down her back. "It's okay sweetheart, everything's okay."

"I thought I'd never see you again," professed Sarah.

"I'm right here Sarah," reassured Carlos. "Don't cry. I'm right here." Clem couldn't help but feel envious as she watched Sarah be comforted by her father. This feeling faded when Clementine noticed Carlos was angrily looking at her. She watched in fear as Carlos let go of his daughter and approached the younger girl.

"What are you doing here?" asked Carlos through clenched teeth.

"People broke into the cabin," reported a still emotional Sarah.

"What?" Carlos was shocked by this news. "Who?"

"A woman and a man with a gun," answered Sarah. "It was so scary, but Clementine took care of me,"

"She took care of you?" repeated Carlos in disbelief.

"Clementine got us out of the cabin before they found us. And when I didn't know what to do, she said we should go to the stream to find you."

"Did she?" Sarah nodded at her father. Clem watched nervously as Carlos approached her. He stretched out his hand and placed it on the small girl's shoulder.

"Thank you." Carlos's touch made Clementine feel awkward, but his gratitude felt genuine. He had gone from being angry to looking like he was almost ready to cry.

"So it was them," commented Nick as he approached the group.

"Clementine!" Christa rushed to Clementine, pulling her away from Carlos. "Are you okay?" Christa turned to Carlos. "What were you doing to her?" hissed Christa.

"I just wanted to thank her," answered Carlos in an oddly sentimental tone.

"Thank her?"

"She… she saved me," stuttered a nervous Sarah.

"What the hell is this?" Pete limped over to the group and immediately spotted Sarah and Clementine. "All right, who wants to explain?"

"Sarah says people came to the cabin," reported Carlos.

"What? Again?" Christa turned to Clementine. "Did they hurt you?"

"They had guns," informed Clem. "So we snuck out before they found us."

"Oh fuck, it's them. It's gotta be." rambled Nick in a panicked voice.

"You said they wouldn't follow us!" bellowed Carlos.

"Who the hell are they?" asked Christa. "Just who the fuck are you people?"

"Now just hold on." Pete looked to Clementine and Sarah. "Girls. What can you tell us about these people? What'd they look like? Did they say anything to each other?"

"One of them was called Byron," reported Sarah. "And he said they should call someone named George." Carlos, Pete and Nick all went wide-eyed with fright upon hearing that name.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," chanted Nick in a shaken voice.

"I guess Bill couldn't rein him in this time." Pete rubbed his forehead.

"Now what do we do?" asked Carlos.

"Maybe… maybe we can use this," reasoned Pete. "You two said, they didn't see you right? For all they know, that was just an empty cabin in the woods. They might not be expecting…"

"Actually," interrupted Sarah. "One of them saw a picture of me. Dad, the woman said she knew I was your daughter."

"Picture?" asked a baffled Carlos. "Where did they get a picture of you?"

"I took it," answered Clementine.

"You what?" snarled Carlos. "Do you have any idea…"

"It's not her fault," confessed a frightened Sarah. "I asked her to do it. I'm… I'm sorry." Sarah clung to her father and started sobbing again.

"Doesn't matter who took it. If they saw that and one of them recognized you, they know we've been through here," realized Pete. "And they'll be waiting for us to come back, and it'll be more than just two of them by now. We gotta move, and quickly."

"But to where?" asked Carlos. "We only went to the cabin because you said it was too dangerous to go forward with your plan. That they'd be waiting for us. Now you say they're waiting for us there."

"We're just gonna have to find another way," asserted Pete.

"Where?" asked Nick, clearly scared out of his wits. "Where the hell are we going to go?"

"I'm working on that," answered an irritated Pete. "So unless you got a suggestion, why don't you just sit down and shut up for a while?"

"What about the bridge?" suggested Clementine.

"Bridge?" asked Pete.

"Clem," warned Christa in a harsh tone.

"You said there's suppose to be a bridge north of here," reminded Clem. "Right?"

"Is that true?" Christa answered Pete with only a scornful look. "Look, we ain't got time for this. North it is."

"Are you serious?" asked Nick. "You're just…"

"You got a better idea?" said Pete. "We sure as hell ain't going back east right now and the cabin's south of here. We go west we'll hit the river and just have to move along it looking for a place to cross. Might as well try north." Pete turned to Christa. "Of course, it would be helpful if we knew where it went."

"I don't know where it goes," grumbled Christa. "I've never even seen it! If you people hadn't shot…"

"Enough!" ordered Carlos as he covered Sarah's ears.

"Carlos, why don't you just take Sarah aside for a minute," suggested Pete. "Get her some water while I talk to them."

"Come on sweetheart." Carlos guided Sarah away from the group. "You must be thirsty." Sarah briefly looked back at Clementine before Carlos led her upstream.

"Just who the hell are you people?" asked Christa. "What have you gotten us into?"

"We don't have time to explain," retorted Pete. "So…"

"Make time," insisted Christa. "Because so far, things have gone from bad to worse because of you people and I'm sick and tired of you telling us what to do."

"Look, long story short, we use to belong to a much bigger group of people, and we didn't like how things were being run, so we left," explained Pete.

"And who's this George person?" Pete and Nick exchanged nervous glances.

"He's bad news," said Pete. "Let's leave it at that."

"So are you people," stated Christa. "Just give us our share of the food and water, our guns, and me and her are going our own way."

"We are?" asked Clementine.

"You can take as much food and water as you can carry, but we're hanging onto your rifle for the time being," informed Pete

"You said…"

"That was when we were going to leave you with what you had," rationalized Pete. "I'd like to be wrong, but now I can't help think you're going stick us up the second we hand you your rifle back, if not just shoot us in the back."

"I'm not the one who killed someone!" shouted Christa.

"No, but you sure as hell seem ready to start though," noted Pete.

"You son of a…"

"Listen," demanded Pete. "Before we came out to the sticks, I set aside some essentials for my people. I only planned on four people, but, we could probably take on two more."

"Wait, you're not seriously thinking about taking them with us?" asked Nick.

"I already told you once. I left that godforsaken place to get away from shit like leaving kids to die," reminded Pete. "I'm sure as hell not just gonna turn around and hand them another one, let along a woman with a baby on the way."

"And what makes you think we even want to come with you?" added Christa.

"I wanna come," interjected Clem.

"You're alternative is to wander the woods unarmed with a wounded little girl, which is your choice. Like hell I'm forcing you to come with us after what's happened. But you come with us, you'll have us collecting supplies and you'll have protection."

"I'd rather take my chances going back to cabin," answered Christa.

"I don't," interjected Clem, who was growing tired of being ignored.

"For all we know, these people are after you because you're thieving killers," accused Christa.

"Whatever you think of us, believe me, these people are worse," affirmed Pete in a certain tone. "They'll have already taken anything of worth from that cabin by now, and they won't care that she's a kid or your pregnant. All they'll care about is what they can get out of you, and if that's nothing, then they'll get rid of you."

"Christa," spoke a concerned Clem. "Let's just stay with them, just for now." Christa looked at Clementine, clearly unhappy with that suggestion.

"Think about it, her arm's not even better yet. You really want to be roaming around out there with her like that?" Christa didn't answer Pete. "Look, the way I see it, you've already been dragged into our problems, you might as well stick around long enough to get something out of it."

"You fucking people," mumbled Christa. "It's not bad enough you killed Omid, you want to drag me and her down too."

"I'm trying to keep you alive," insisted an irate Pete. "Now what's it going to be?"

"Like we really have a choice."

"I'll take that as a yes," assumed Pete. "Go get good and hydrated, because we've got a lot of walking ahead of us. I want to put some distance between us and them before sundown."


	17. Strange Bedfellows

"That's it," panted Christa. "I need to stop."

"Again?" asked an irritated Carlos.

"Yes, again," hissed Christa as she sat down.

"Dad, she's pregnant," reminded a concerned Sarah. "This is probably super hard for her."

"Of course," said Carlos with a forced sense of sympathy. "How could I forget?"

"We might as well call it a day." Pete limped over to a tree. "We're not going to make much more ground before sunset at this rate, and we're all hungry and could use the rest. We already found the river, so if we get an early start tomorrow we can follow it to this bridge, see if we can get our bearings from there."

"That's assuming it exists, or we haven't already gone past is," commented Nick.

Clementine sat down, very tired herself. She hadn't spent this much time walking since before coming to the cabin. It was an odd sensation, being on the move again. She had spent so long in the same place she almost forgot what it was like. The uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring, the tedious marching occasionally broken by bursts of fear when danger felt close. It all was just making her nostalgic for her quiet little room at the cabin.

"Nick, get a fire going," ordered Pete as he unpacked the fish they had wrapped up earlier. "Get started on dinner, and be quick because the fire needs to be out by dark. I don't want to give them any clues to where we are." Pete took a knife and gutted one of the fish. "I'm gonna set our traps, so we'll hopefully have something to eat for tomorrow." Pete scooped up the fish guts and started feeding them into one of the traps he was carrying.

"You sure you don't want me to do that?" Nick couldn't help but stare at Pete's bloody bandage.

"It's just a scrapped knee, I ain't crippled," angrily stated Pete when he saw what Nick was looking at. "Why don't you just do what you're told and let me work."

"I just figured you could use a break," reasoned Nick.

"We're already on a break," reminded an irate Pete as he collected his traps. "So why don't get a damn fire going already so we got something to eat before it gets dark?"

"Fine, go fuck up your other leg, see if I care." Clementine watched as Pete stormed off towards the riverbank. Nick stared angrily at Pete as he left before collecting wood and kindling. Sarah was talking with her father, leaving Clementine with just Christa, who was lying on her back.

"Are you okay?" Clementine moved closer to Christa. She was sweating and still breathing heavy.

"I'm okay Clem," mumbled Christa in a wounded voice. "I just really thought I was up for this. Kept telling myself I wasn't 'too pregnant' for this kind of thing. I guess I was wrong."

"It's harder than I remember," confessed Clem. "Maybe it's not that you're pregnant. Maybe we spent so much time at the cabin we're just kind of, you know, out of practice?"

"I think it's more than being out of practice why I had to stop so much today," lamented Christa.

"Well…" Clementine tried to think of something to say. "I'm glad you had to stop a bunch of times."

"Why's that?" asked Christa, suspecting Clem had a clever answer.

"Because... I got to take a break when you did. I'd be a lot more tired if you didn't do that." Christa smirked at Clem.

"That's sweet Clem." Christa rubbed her forehead.

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Clem.

"No. I'm just going to rest for a while. Maybe take a nap. What about you? Do you need anything?"

"No. Well, I'm hungry. But Nick's working on that."

"That Pete guy acts like he's so big for feeding us after he took everything," groused Christa.

"I think he wants to help us," commented Clementine.

"For now," scoffed Christa as she carefully turned onto her side. "I wouldn't count on that lasting." Clementine looked out through the trees towards the river. She could see Pete off in the distance fiddling with something, probably his traps. Surveying the campsite, Clem could see Christa was resting, Nick was preparing the fish, and Sarah and Carlos were still talking to each other.

Seeing that everyone was preoccupied, Clem carefully sneaked away towards the river. As she approached, she could hear Pete swearing to himself. She came up behind the older man as he was attaching a rope to one of his traps.

"Pete?" Pete spun around in shock, reaching for his holster as he did so. "It's just me."

"Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Pete took his hand off his gun. "Anyone ever tell you sneaking up on people is a real bad habit, especially nowadays."

"That's why I said your name," explained Clem as she stepped onto the riverbank. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't, it's just…" Pete picked up the fish trap. "I just keep expecting someone to jump out at me at any minute." Pete threw the trap into the river. "And it doesn't speak well of me when a little girl can sneak up on me without trying."

"Maybe I'm just really good at sneaking up on people," reasoned Clem, trying not to sound too smug.

"Or maybe I'm just getting old." Pete looked over at Clem. "You need something?"

"I was just wondering, why are you helping us?"

"It ain't enough that I am?" asked Pete in annoyed voice. "You gotta know why now?"

"I was just asking," said Clementine in a defensive tone. "You seem to be only one who wants to, other than Sarah maybe. And if you stop helping us…"

"I won't. You hear me?" Pete assured, sounding almost emotional as he did so. "I'm done living like that."

"How did you live before?" Pete took a deep breath in response.

"How… How well did you know this… Omid, was it?"

"Yeah," answered Clem.

"How'd you know him?" asked Pete.

"He was just taking care of me, like Christa," explained Clem. "I really liked him. He was funny, and tried make me feel better and was always really nice." Clem's face sank. "But, it didn't help keep him alive." Pete sighed as heard Clem repeat his words.

"No, but I reckon it made things easier for the two of you though," reasoned Pete.

"Is that what you're trying to do?" asked Clem. "Make things easier by being nicer?"

"In a sense," shrugged Pete. "I figured if I didn't try to do the right thing again soon, I'd forget how." Pete looked at Clementine's bandaged arm. "Like I said, if you and Christa need someone to hate, hate me for what's happening. Coming out here was my decision, so what happens is on my head. Not Nick, or even Carlos."

"I don't hate you," said Clementine.

"Truth be told, I think I'd feel better if you did," confessed Pete. "Least then, I'd know what to expect."

"Is that why you're mean to Nick?"

"I'm just trying to toughen the boy up a little. Someone's gotta push him to be a man, might as well be me," said Pete. "Besides, I ain't gonna be around forever. Be easier for him in the long run if I'm just his bastard uncle."

"I don't think it's working," noted Clem. "He's worried about you."

"He should be worried about himself. Not me."

"Do you care about him?"

"Of course I do. That damn boy is the closest thing I've got to a son."

"You should tell him that," suggested Clementine.

"If he heard me talking like that he'd figure I'd gone senile or was dying, or both."

"But it's how you feel."

"How I feel ain't going do him any damn good right now. Like I said, he needs to be thinking about himself, and what he's doing. Not have him think I'm always gonna be there for him," asserted Pete.

"You won't?"

"God willing, I would. But God ain't all that willing these days." A distant rustling caught the pair's attention. Clem ducked behind Pete as he reached for his gun. She watched as a walker clumsy stumbled out of the woods and towards the river.

"God, even out here you can't get away from the damn things. Bad enough they eat people, they also chase off everything we eat. Can't remember the last time I even saw a deer." Pete and Clem watched as the walker tried entering the river, but got stuck on the branch of a fallen tree. He started swinging his arms towards the water, comically unaware of the obvious branch holding him at the waist."The fuck is he doing? Trying to kill the fish next?"

"I think he's following the sounds the river makes."

"Dumb fuck lurkers. I probably should put him down before he finds his way into our camp." Pete took his hand off his gun and reached for a knife attached to his belt.

"You're not gonna shoot it?" asked Clem.

"Don't wanna risk the noise." Pete approached the walker. "You might want to look away."

"Why? It's just a walker."

"Not the squeamish type?" Clem shrugged. "Nick can't stand getting close to these things."

"Well, they are dangerous," noted Clem.

"A bunch of them, yeah. With just one, all you need is to be is faster." Pete thrust his knife through the walker's eye just as it turned towards him. "Good luck telling Nick that though." Pete started wiping his knife on the walker's shirt. "Kid's always been skittish. First time I took him out hunting, about when he was your age, he had this beautiful twelve point buck dead to rights. And what does he do? He turns to me and says 'I just can't do it." Pete sheathed his knife. "Should have seen his face when I took the shot myself. Boy was he…" Pete stopped mid sentence as he turned back towards Clem. Clementine turned around and was surprised to find Nick standing behind her, looking rather annoyed.

"Nick," called Pete as he started moving back. "What happened?"

"I just came to say dinner was almost ready," informed Nick, clearly irritated.

"Good. I could use a hot meal after today," said Pete as he approached his nephew. "Guess we all could." Nick just stared at Pete.

"Why'd you tell her that?" grumbled Nick as he turned back towards the camp.

"I was just making conversation." Pete and Clem followed after Nick. "Maybe let her know that whole shed business wasn't a regular thing for you."

"No, my regular thing is I'm a fucking wimp. Is that it?" asked an annoyed Nick.

"I didn't say that," asserted Pete.

"You 'don't say' a lot of things about me," noted Nick as he headed for the campfire.

"Well if you're gonna pitch a goddamn fit every time I open my mouth, maybe I'll just stop talking about you all together."

"Fine by me." Christa sat up as she saw Clem returning with Nick and Pete.

"What happened?" asked a nervous Christa.

"Nothing, I went to the river," answered Clementine.

"Clem, you can't run off like that," scolded Christa.

"It was like twenty feet away," reasoned Clem. "I was with Pete."

"What were you doing with her?" asked Christa in a suspicious manner.

"He was probably getting ready to adopt her," commented Nick as he sat down by the fire.

"What?" asked an angry Christa.

"Don't listen to him," insisted an irate Pete as he sat down. "He's just sore that your girl probably has more stomach for this than he does."

"Stomach for what?" asked an utterly confused Christa.

"Pete killed a lurker," answered Clementine.

"There was a lurker?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"Not anymore," answered Pete.

"It's fine Sarah. It's gone," assured Carlos.

"It was just one," informed Clem. "There's not many of them this far away from the cities."

"Have you seen…"

"Sarah," scolded Carlos. "Don't bother Clementine."

"I was just curious," answered Sarah.

"You don't need to know anything about the lurkers other than to keep away from them." Clementine inched closer to the fire, trying to get warm. She looked at the crudely roasted fish and sighed.

"Are you okay?" asked Christa.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Clem rubbed her arms, trying to get warm. "It's just kinda cold."

"It's gonna get colder," commented Pete.

"I knew we should have found you some winter clothes before we came out here," lamented Christa.

"You could borrow my jacket," suggested Sarah.

"Sarah, no," said Carlos. "Then you'd be cold all night."

"But she's younger than me, she probably needs it more," reasoned Sarah.

"She can take mine." Christa removed her own jacket and gave it to Clem. "We've had enough help from you people as it is."

"When we get done eating you should huddle up with each other," recommend Pete. "Use your body heat to keep each other warm."

"You mean, like hugging?" asked Sarah.

"More or less. Should be easy enough for you and your dad or Christa and her girl." Pete looked to Nick. "And me and him will be fine on our own. In fact, Nick, you take first watch tonight and I'll take the next one until morning."

"What about me?" asked Carlos. "Shouldn't I be armed?"

"I thought you had something put up in a safe place?" Carlos glared at Pete in response. "You and Christa just worry about keeping your girls warm. Me and Nick will keep an eye out for anything tonight." Clem wrapped Christa's jacket around herself, hoping it would keep her warm for the night.


	18. Keep Your Friends Close

Clementine found herself forced awake by a strong hand clamped over her mouth. She felt a sense of panic as she opened her eyes, unable to see who was holding her. Before she could scream she heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear.

"It's me." Christa released Clementine, who rolled over to find the woman holding a rifle.

"What's going on?" Looking around, Clem noticed it was still dark, but she could see what looked like faint daylight on the horizon.

"Pete fell asleep," answered Christa. "Now's our chance. Get your backpack on."

"For what?"

"To get away from these people, what else?" answered Christa, baffled by Clem's confusion. Clem dutifully picked up her backpack, but hesitated putting it on as she considered the situation.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" Christa noticed Clementine was looking in the direction of Carlos and Sarah. "Wait, don't tell me you want to stay because you like Carlos's daughter."

"No," denied Clementine.

"Clementine, whatever you think of her, don't forget who her father is, and what he's done to us."

"It's not because of Sarah, and I haven't forgot," defended Clem.

"Then what?"

"Where are we going to go?" asked Clem.

"We'll go back to the cabin. Whoever these people are, they're probably not even there anymore," reasoned Christa. "They're not even looking for us."

"Nether were Pete and the others, and they're afraid of these people."

"Probably because they did something to them and are afraid of payback."

"I'm more afraid of them than I am of Carlos or Nick," argued Clementine.

"More the reason to leave then. If those people really are worse, then the last place we need to be is next to the four people they're trying to find."

"But where do we go?"

"We'll go north and find the bridge before they do."

"No, they'd catch us. We're not as fast as them and they're looking for it too."

"They wouldn't be if you hadn't told them about it." Clementine scowled at Christa. "We'll figure something out later, for now, we just need to get out of here."

"This is a bad idea," argued Clem. "They're better at getting food than us, and we've got nowhere to go right now. You're just going to make things worse by taking their gun."

"It's my gun," reminded Christa through gritted teeth. "They took it from me."

"I just mean this isn't a good time to leave."

"This might be our only time," retorted Christa. "You heard Pete, he's not giving our guns back and I don't like the idea of choosing between being at the mercy of the same people who killed Omid and left you to die in the cold or fending for ourselves with no weapons." Clementine looked around, making certain she and Christa were the only ones awake, then reached for her backpack. She unzipped the top and revealed the pistol tucked inside.

"You've had that this whole time?" asked Christa.

"Just put the rifle back," insisted Clementine. "If we have to leave later we'll have this to keep us safe."

"Or we can just leave now with two guns instead of one." Christa reached for the pistol but Clem pulled her backpack away.

"It's my gun," insisted Clementine.

"It was under the porch, wasn't it?" deduced Christa. "You wouldn't have it if I hadn't told you where to look for it."

"So? That doesn't make it yours."

"And that means Carlos was hiding it from the others," realized Christa. "You really want to stick around with the like's of him? Someone plotting against his own people, and probably us as well?"

"No, but Pete says he'll keep helping us," retorted Clementine.

"And what if something happens to him?" asked Christa. "How do you think being stuck with just Nick and Carlos will work out for us?"

"Then we'll leave then," reasoned Clem.

"No, we're leaving now," insisted Christa. "Now you need to get up and…"

"I don't need to do shit," swore Clementine.

"Clementine!" exclaimed Christa, trying not to raise her voice. "Since when did you start talking like that?"

"Since I felt like it," asserted Clem. "You're not my mom Christa. And you're not Lee either. I don't have to do what you say."

"I'm the person Lee asked to take care of you," reminded an irritated Christa.

"No, you told me he said he wanted both you and Omid to take care of me."

"Well if you didn't notice, Omid's not here. So…"

"Didn't notice? I was right behind him when he died!"

"Keep your voice down," warned Christa.

"I was covered in his blood," recounted an emotional Clementine.

"Because these people shot him," remarked Christa.

"I wish he was here instead of you." Christa was shocked by Clementine's outburst. She gaped at the furious little girl in disbelief, devastated by what she said. Clementine however showed no regrets about what she said, her very gaze brewing with angry. "I'm not going. And you can't make me. So if you want to go, just leave."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," admitted a baffled Christa. "These people kill Omid, leave you out in the cold to die, and run us out of our home, and you want to stay with them?" Clem watched as Christa's face twisted from hurt to angry. "Fine Clem, have it your way."

Clementine watched in disbelief as Christa stood up and walked away, actually staggered to see Christa would abandon her. But upon seeing Christa prop the rifle she was holding against a sleeping Pete, Clem realized she wasn't actually leaving. Christa returned to where Clem was sitting and lied down on the ground, a bitter expression on her face.

"I'm telling you right now," stated Christa. "This is a mistake." Clementine turned her back to Christa, not wanting to look at her any more. She then zipped up her backpack and clutched it close, refusing to let anyone take it from her again. As she tried to get comfortable on the dirt, she noticed Christa's jacket was still covering her legs. Clementine kicked it off, thinking it didn't feel all that warm anymore.


	19. A Fragile Alliance

Pete took a scope out of his pocket and examined a large wooden bridge off in the distance. "I'm guessing that's it?" he asked Christa.

"I told you, I never saw the damn thing," remarked Christa. "And the one person who did…"

"Yeah, we get it," interrupted Pete. "Well, we've been following the river all day. Doubt there's many other bridges to find out here."

"Somebody's been here." Nick adjusted his binoculars.

"How do you know?" asked Clementine.

"There's a fishing net tied to the handrail, right at the middle."

"Yeah, I see that." Pete sighed. "I don't like this. There's a road running right up to this thing."

"Wasn't that the point of coming here?" asked Carlos. "You said we had to find another way. What's this?"

"If they're still looking for us, they might have come through here if there was a road they could use."

"Are we gonna have to sleep on the ground again?" asked Sarah.

"We are leaving the woods eventually, aren't we?" asked an impatient Carlos.

"We'll leave when it's safe to leave. Not before," declared Pete.

"And when will that be?" asked Carlos. "Every thing you've…"

"Hey!" called Nick. "Someone's out there." Clem could see a figure moving across the bridge from the other side of the river.

"All right, everyone fall back," ordered Pete in a hushed voice as he motioned towards the trees. The group moved back into the forest for cover, while Pete and Nick remained near the edge, observing the bridge

"What's happening?" whispered Carlos.

"One man in black. Doesn't look familiar, but I can't see his face all that well." Clem tried to inch closer but Christa put her arm around her, keeping her still.

"Did you ever run into anyone else out here?" Pete asked Christa.

"Just you people," answered an annoyed Christa.

"All he's got is a bow," reported Nick. "We could take him."

"Just because all you can see is his bow doesn't mean that's all he's carrying," reminded Pete. "He might still have a gun or knife on him. And he might be one of a dozen. And as for taking him, we didn't come out here to start trouble."

"Could have fooled me," said Christa.

"I'll go introduce myself." Pete stood up. "Nick, you cover me from here. Be ready if he tries something, but only if he tries anything, other wise keep your gun down. If there are more of them a shot will bring them running."

"Why even bother?" asked Christa. "Let's just avoid him."

"And risk running into more of his people unprepared?" asked Pete. "Better to chance a meeting now with just one of them and maybe figure out what he's about."

"Yeah, that's worked wonders for me and her," commented Christa.

"I'll move along the woods a bit before showing myself, that way he won't know where y'all are," explained Pete. "I'll announce myself first, so Nick, be ready if you see him drawing on me, but not a second sooner. The rest of you stay put, especially you." Pete gestured to Carlos. "If I don't come back, then it's safe to assume they're not friendly. If that happens…" Pete turned to Nick. "Just follow through on what we discussed." Nick seemed unsettled by this order. "Can you do that?" Nick reluctantly nodded to Pete.

"Wait, what did you two discuss?" questioned Christa.

"Yes, what indeed?" added Carlos, equally curious.

"Just what to do if anything happens to me," answered Pete.

"Which is?" Pete ignored Christa's question and started moving through the forest towards the bridge. Clem edged out of Christa's grip towards the river.

"Clem," called Christa.

"I just want to see." Clem stopped behind one of the trees. Christa came up behind Clem, also trying to see the bridge.

"Sarah, stay right here." Carlos left Sarah and moved next to Nick.

"This is a bad idea," commented Christa.

"Yes, it is," agreed Carlos.

"If Pete says he wants to meet this guy, then that's what we're doing," asserted Nick as he watched the bridge through his binoculars. "He does stuff like this all the time."

"Not like this he didn't," insisted Carlos. "Ever since we left he's been acting differently."

"How would you know?" asked Nick. "You never went out there with him."

"Neither did you," reminded Carlos.

"Pete knows what he's doing. He's…" Nick dropped his binoculars and pointed his rifle at the bridge. Everyone looked to the bridge, but all they could see was a figure standing on it in the distance.

"What happened?" whispered Carlos.

"I think they just met." Nick set his rifle down and picked up the binoculars.

"Is everything okay?" asked Sarah in a hushed voice from the wooded area.

"Everything's fine sweetheart." The group watched as a second figure, presumably Pete, met with the first.

"What's happening?" asked Clementine.

"They're just talking," informed Nick.

"What exactly is this plan you and Pete have for us?" asked Carlos.

"It's just what Pete set up for us before we left Shaffer's," answered Nick.

"Then what harm is there in telling us what that is exactly?" asked Carlos.

"Yeah, really," agreed Christa.

"He doesn't want any of you running off without us," answered Nick.

"If he doesn't come back, you're going to have to tell us about it anyways."

"He's coming back. They don't even look tense. They're..." Everyone watched the pair of figures start moving across the bridge to the other side of the river.

"So much for that," commented Christa.

"Where's he going?" Carlos demanded to know.

"They're just walking," reported Nick. "Guy is probably showing Pete something on the other side." Carlos picked up the rifle and looked through the scope.

"Don't." Nick put his hand on the gun and aimed the barrel back down.

"Yeah, somebody might blow your head off for trying to see." Sarah gasped at Christa's comment.

"Christa," said Clem in an annoyed tone.

"Not in front of my daughter," growled Carlos in a low voice.

"Yeah, imagine how horrible it would be for her to see that," remarked Christa in a biting tone.

"Christa stop it," insisted Clementine.

"Would you all shut the fuck up?" suggested Nick as he watched the bridge.

"Don't tell me what to do," retorted Christa.

"Christa," repeated Clem in a louder voice, desperate to get the woman's attention.

"You're only here because of Pete," reminded Carlos. "Bringing you along has been his worst idea yet."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up already?" suggested an angry Nick. "If Pete did anything wrong it was bringing you with us."

"Well that's one thing we agree on," added Christa.

"I don't want to hear it from you either," snapped Nick. "Pete and I have been doing everything for you and your kid and all you do is bitch."

"Well fucking excuse me if I'm not all that grateful to the same assholes who…"

"Not in front of Sarah!" Clementine groaned as everyone started talking over each other. Seeing no activity from the bridge, Clem moved towards the woods and just kept walking, hoping to get away from the argument. She found a tree to sit down besides and covered her ears. Clem looked out at the forest, actually pondering what would happen if she just kept walking. As Clem wondered to herself, she noticed someone moving next to her.

"I'm sorry our parents don't get along." Clem took her hands away from ears so she could hear Sarah better. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm just sick of hearing grown ups fight." Sarah sat down next to Clementine. "It's like all they ever do."

"I'm sorry," said Sarah.

"And I'm sick of people not listening to me."

"I'm listening to you." Clem turned to Sarah.

"Yeah, you are," realized Clementine. "Thanks."

"Your welcome," answered Sarah in a warm voice.

"I never thanked you for helping me that night either," realized Clementine.

"It's okay," assured Sarah.

"No it's not," insisted Clem. "That was a really good thing you did."

"I just brought you a box," reminded Sarah. "Anybody could have done that."

"Not everyone would though," replied Clementine. "You actually did."

"I guess," shrugged Sarah.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you help me?" wondered Clem.

"What kind of question is that?" answered Sarah. "You needed help. People are suppose to help little girls." Clementine found Sarah's sentiment bittersweet. It felt like something that should be true, but rarely was anymore.

"Thanks for helping me," spoke Clem in a more emotional voice. "And, thanks for making me that nice note too."

"You got that?" Clem took off her backpack. She unzipped it and removed the paper from inside. "You kept it," noted Sarah, touched to see it again. "Did it help?"

"A little bit, yeah," smiled Clem. "It was nice to know somebody cares about me."

"Your mom cares about you," reminded Sarah.

"I don't know," admitted Clem.

"Even if she gets mad, she still cares. She's your mom." Clementine found little comfort in that observation, seeing as Christa wasn't actually her mom. "If you don't mind me asking, where's your dad?" Clementine turned away from Sarah. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"He's gone. He's been gone for a while." Clem couldn't decide if that was a lie or not. Her dad had been gone for a while, but not Omid, which what Sarah was probably asking about, even if she didn't realize it.

"I'm really sorry."

"You didn't know."

"That means your mom's baby won't ever meet its dad." Clementine hadn't thought of that, but now felt even worse upon realizing it. "I never got to meet my mom." Clementine turned back to Sarah.

"Never?" asked Clementine.

"Well, I guess I did, but she died when I was really little, so, I don't remember her," explained Sarah in a sad voice.

"Not even a little?" Sarah shook her head.

"I wouldn't even know what she looked like if my dad hadn't shown me pictures of her." Sarah looked down on the ground. "I love my dad, but, I really wish I could have at least met my mom too. Does that sound selfish?" Clem wanted to tell her no, but thinking about what Sarah said made Clementine remember how badly she had wanted her own parents back, and what had happened because of that.

"Just behappy you have your dad," answered Clem, trying not to sound upset.

"I am, but..." Sarah hesitated.

"But what?" asked Clementine.

"Well, sometimes I wonder if he thinks I'm dumb. I'll ask him about things, and he'll just tell me not to worry about it, even though I'm not worried, like I won't understand." Sarah looked down at her feet. "But, maybe that's just because I am dumb or something."

"You're not dumb," insisted Clementine. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, it's just, you seem to know so much more than me, and you're younger than me," observed Sarah. "So, I guess I feel dumb compared to someone smart like you."

"You're not dumb just because you don't know things. If nobody tells you this stuff, how could you know?" asked Clementine. "That's not your fault."

"Well, then why doesn't my dad tell me about these things?" Clem bit her tongue, holding back the truth about how Carlos keeps things from Sarah.

"I don't know," lied Clementine. "You should ask him sometime."

"I'm afraid he'd get mad at me," confessed Sarah.

"For asking a question?"

"I don't know, maybe." Clementine looked down at the gun in her bag.

"You know, I could show you things, if you don't tell your dad."

"Like what?" Clem looked around. She didn't see anyone nearby, and could still hear occasional comments from Christa, Carlos and Nick.

"Do you still want to learn how to use a gun?" asked Clem.

"Um… I guess I could." Clem removed her pistol from her bag.

"Now we can't actually shoot it, because of the noise. But I can still show you how it works." Clem took the gun and offered it to Sarah. "Remember, don't point it at things you don't want to shoot."

"I won't." Sarah carefully took the gun from Clementine. "Again, I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know," reassured Clem. "Now, you hold it like this." Clem helped to arrange Sarah's hands to grip the pistol properly. "Know where your finger is, and don't put it on the trigger unless you know you have to hurt somebody."

"Okay."

"Now, you line up this this thingy, in-between these two and that's how you aim. Try to aim at that tree." Sarah pointed the gun at the tree.

"And you just pull the trigger?"

"Actually, you want to squeeze it."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but it helps for some reason."

"How do you know so much about guns?"

"A man I knew taught me how to use them," answered Clem with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"They're really loud, and they hurt your hands. Or, at least mine," said Clementine. "But they're not so scary once you get used to him. At least, when you're holding it. It can still be scary when someone else has one."

"Clementine?" asked Sarah. "Would you have really shot that man? At the cabin?" Clementine considered the question.

"Maybe," answered Clementine.

"Oh." Sarah looked at Clementine, surprised by her answer. "I… I don't think I could ever do something like that."

"Even if they were going to hurt you?"

"Have… have you had to do it?" Clementine looked away, unsure how to answer. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask you things like that."

"Everything's dangerous now Sarah. Everything." Clem turned back to Sarah, who had a terrified expression on her face. "Well, don't be scared right now, It's just..."

"Out there…" Clem looked out to the woods and saw a walker about thirty feet away, stumbling towards the pair. Sarah raised the gun, trying to aim at the walker, but her hands were shaking horribly.

"Sarah, just let me do it." Clem carefully placed her hand on the gun. "It'll be okay." Clementine slowly pulled the gun out of Sarah's grip, which offered no resistance. Clementine took hold of the gun, lined up her sights with the walker's head, moved her finger to the trigger, and watched the walker drop dead from a shot to the head, but not from her gun.

Clementine looked around in confusion. Turning her head she spotted Nick approaching from Sarah's side, his rifle in hand. Clementine quickly tossed her gun back into her bag and zipped it shut before Nick turned to the girls, surprised to see them.

"What are you two doing?" Clem and Sarah just looked up at Nick, unsure how to answer. "Are you okay? Did…"

"Sarah!" called Carlos as he ran to the scene.

"Clementine!" yelled Christa as she arrived right behind Carlos. "What did I say about running off?"

"I told you to stay right there." Carlos looked to Clementine. "This is you're doing. Isn't it?"

"No, dad…"

"Don't you take that tone with her," snapped Christa. "It's not her fault if your kid can't follow directions."

"She was just…"

"Sarah, you keep away from Clementine," ordered Carlos.

"But…"

"You hear that Clem?" mocked Christa. "Carlos wants you to leave his daughter alone. Remember that next time she needs your help."

"I'm not…"

"What the hell is going on out there!" The distant call of Pete caught everyone's attention. They watched as the older man moved through the brush to where the group was standing. "I heard a shot. What's going on?"

"It was just a lurker," reported Nick. "I took care of it."

"God dammit Nick," swore Pete.

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" asked a perplexed Nick.

"Why didn't you use your knife? Go through the eye like I taught you?" asked Pete. "Everyone for a mile will have heard that. If they're still looking for us you just gave them a big damn clue to where to find us. And it doesn't help to hear gunshots when I'm trying telling someone we mean no harm."

"I… I didn't have time," reasoned Nick in a nervous voice. "It was… going for the girls. I had to shoot it."

"And what the hell are they doing this far from the river?" asked Pete.

"Why don't you ask her?" Carlos gestured to Clementine.

"His girl was the one that ran off," insisted Christa.

"I can't leave you people for ten goddamn minutes without something going wrong." Pete took a deep breath. "Look, the man's name is Matthew. He and one other are held up at what use to be a ranger station across the river."

"So there's just two of them?" asked Nick.

"That's what they said and I didn't see anything to suggest otherwise. They also said they offer a meal and a place to stay for anyone passing through."

"That seems awfully generous," noted Carlos in a suspicious voice.

"Why do they give people food?" asked Clem, also suspect.

"Maybe they're just nice," suggested Sarah.

"They said they got enough to go around, at least, for the moment. From the sounds of things, they've been held up there since the beginning, so maybe they haven't had it so bad. But I just can't be certain."

"If they're so willing to give people hands outs, that means they could have seen the people looking for us," concluded Christa.

"Trust me, if those people had been here before, then these two wouldn't be here now," answered Pete. "Other than a free meal, I didn't see or hear anything that raises a red flag. But still, I'm thinking it's better we just tell them no thanks and start moving to where we need to go, right now."

"Wait, you're not serious are you?" asked Nick.

"That was the plan all along," reminded Pete.

"We only got a day's worth of food and water left," reminded Nick.

"It can't be more than ten miles to go from here."

"Ten miles full of lurkers once we get out of the woods."

"And it'll probably be dark before we make it that far," added Christa.

"Well ain't getting any closer waiting out here," retorted Pete.

"No, but we could be better prepared if we remain here for the day," suggested Carlos. "Especially if these people do have food."

"And somewhere to stay the night," added Christa.

"I would be nice to sleep in doors again," said Sarah.

"You said it's just two guys," said Nick. "You and I can handle them if we have to."

"It ain't them I'm worried about," said Pete.

"Then what?" asked Nick.

"It's just, big building right next to a road," said Pete. "Place like that's gonna stick out to them if they come this way."

"Like a target," commented Clementine.

"Exactly," confirmed Pete, surprised by Clem's input.

"It's a country road in the middle of the woods," reasoned Nick.

"If you people aren't checking this out, then me and her will," asserted Christa.

"We will?" asked Clementine, annoyed that Christa was speaking for her.

"You'd take that chance with your girl?" asked Pete.

"Well they haven't shot anyone yet, so I'm already feeling better about them then you people," said Christa.

"And since you seem to insist on keeping your 'plans' a secret, I don't see how leaving now will do us any good," asserted Carlos.

"I'm guessing you want to check it out as well?" Pete asked Clementine in a resigned voice. Clem looked out over the forest, then turned back to the older man.

"Would it be warmer?" asked Clementine.

"Their building seemed pretty sturdy and it has a fireplace."

"I guess we could at least see it," reasoned Clementine.

"Well then, I guess I can't go against all of y'all," realized Pete. "But everyone stay sharp. We still don't know these people." Pete led the group out of the woods and down the riverbank towards the bridge. It seemed much larger to Clem in person than it did at a distance, arcing over the distance of the river in a way that left enough space to drive a boat under it. Crossing the bridge they found a thin young man in a black hooded jacket armed with a lime green bow.

"Everything okay?" asked the man as the group crossed the bridge.

"Yeah, just a lurker." Pete stopped in front of the man. "Everyone. This is Matthew, and he's offered to let us stay the night. Matthew, this is my nephew Nick. That's Carlos, his daughter Sarah. Christa, her girl Clementine."

"Well, you don't look like assholes," commented Matthew with a smirk.

"How do you figure that?" Pete glared at Christa.

"Assholes usually don't have so many kids with them," answered Matthew as he started moving away from the group. "Usually."

"Nick, take Carlos and Sarah and go on," instructed Pete. "I want a minute to talk with Christa." Clementine watched as the others left, leaving her, Christa and Pete alone on the bridge.

"What now?" asked Christa.

"You don't have to like us, but you sure as shit could stop making things harder for everyone," suggested an aggravated Pete.

"You think I give a fuck about making things easier for you after what you did to me?" retorted Christa.

"No, but what about her?" Pete gestured to Clementine. "I don't think she's enjoying you stirring up shit every minute either."

"I don't," answered Clementine in a defiant voice. "I just wish you would stop."

"Really?" asked Christa in disbelief. "None of this is bothering you?"

"Not as much as you bringing it up all the time. I miss him too you know. And every time you start talking about it, I can't help but think about it and…" Christa looked at a sniveling Clementine, desperately trying not to cry. She tried to put her hand on the girl's shoulder, but Clem shrugged it off.

"Give it a rest, just for the evening," suggested Pete in a more concerned tone. Christa sighed deeply in response.

"Fine," she said in a calm, almost ashamed voice.

"All right, let's go."


	20. New Faces

Pete led Clementine and Christa across the bridge. They followed an old dirt road for a short distance until they saw a large two story wooden lodge looming in the distance. As the came up to the front of the building they saw a short balding man with a friendly look on his face.

"Pete," he greeted as he approached the three. "I was wondering what happened to the rest of the people Matthew said were coming."

"This here's Christa, and the girl is Clementine," introduced Pete.

"It's nice to meet both of you, I'm Walter DeWitt," he introduced.

"You've got enough food to spare for six people?" asked Christa.

"You're suspicious," observed Walter, not sounding offended in the slightest. "I could tell Pete was too when he was here earlier."

"Can you blame us?" asked Pete.

"Judging from what we've heard from other travelers, not at all," consoled Walter.

"Where do you get your food?" asked Clem.

"Matthew and I were very fortunate. During one of our earliest expeditions we encountered an overturned semi trailer loaded entirely with non-perishables."

"That's quite a find," noted Pete. "Where was this?"

"About a three hour walk north west of here, and about double that when you're carrying cases of canned peaches with you," joked Walter.

"And that's lasted you this entire time?" asked Christa.

"Not it alone, we've found other goods in the early days searching for another treasure trove and we've been surviving off fish from the river, trying to wean ourselves off non-renewable supplies in preparation for the day they finally run out."

"And you're still willing to give us some?" asked Christa, sounding more concerned than suspicious now.

"They're not going to last forever, regardless if we share them or not. And, all though I'm normally not one to read too deeply into providence, the truck we found did have 'Feed the Children' printed on the side of it. Seemed, unsavory, to horde food donated to charity for just ourselves. All though, we rarely get the opportunity to feed actual children." Walter smiled at Clementine. "Can I ask, how old are you?"

"I'm nine and a half." Clem felt nervous, unsure what to think of Walter.

"I think that makes you the youngest guest we've ever had here," noted Walter in melancholy tone. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."

"Don't sell the girl short," said Pete. "From what I've seen, she's a tough kid."

"Is that true?" asked Walter in playful voice.

"I guess so," shrugged Clementine, unsure how tough she really was.

"Well, if for some reason, you don't feel like being 'tough' while you stay here, that's just fine too," assured Walter.

"Did you see which way my nephew went?" asked Pete.

"That would be Nick, right?" Pete nodded. "He's in the lodge." Pete headed for the front door. "I guess I should give you two the tour."

"Higher!" called a distant voice.

"Was that Sarah?" asked Clementine.

"Sounds like she's enjoying the tire swing Matthew introduced her to," surmised Walter.

"You have a swing?" asked Clementine.

"Of course, how foolish of me. What better place to start?" Walter led Christa and Clem around the side of the lodge. Off in the distance, Matthew observed as Sarah swung about like mad on a tire tied to a tree. She was standing on the swing and holding onto the rope with her hands while Carlos gave her pushes as she flew by, spinning wildly as she passed.

"You want me to push you?" suggested Christa.

"I don't know," answered a dejected Clementine. "That stuff is for kids."

"Clementine, you're…"

"I can't be a kid anymore," Clem insisted to Christa.

"Why not?" asked Walter.

"I just can't," reasoned Clem. "Not anymore."

"Do you know what C.S. Lewis said about growing up?" Clem shook her head at Walter. "When I became a man I put away my childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be grown up."

"What does that mean?" asked Clem.

"It just means, part of growing up is you stop worrying about acting like a kid," explained Christa. "Sound like anyone we used to know?" Clem looked over at Sarah, who seemed to be having the time of her life. Even Carlos was smiling, which looked odd actually.

"Do you know what I would say if I could ever go back and visit my nine year old self?" Walter asked Clem.

"What?"

"Walt, you know all that running around, and jumping off of things, and climbing you've been doing? Do twice as much of it as you're doing now."

"You're just saying that," accused Clementine.

"Oh no, there's nothing I miss more from my youth than my mobility," assured Walter. "At you're age, you don't think about pulling your back, or knee injuries, or joint pain."

"Swollen ankles," added Christa.

"Our first time collecting goods from that truck, I threw out my back so bad I could barely move for the next two days."

"Really?" asked Clementine.

"Just ask Matthew. I doubt he's forgotten that incident." Clementine watched as Sarah leapt off the tire swing and onto the ground.

"Clementine," called Sarah as she approached. "You gotta try their swing. It's awesome."

"I bet you worked up an appetite just now," said Walter.

"Yeah, I'm really hungry," answered Sarah.

"Would you like to help me with dinner?" suggested Walter.

"Sure."

"Sarah," said Carlos. "I think he will be fine without your help."

"It's no trouble," assured Walter.

"I'd just prefer she stay close," insisted Carlos.

"Need a lookout?" Clementine turned to Matthew, who was still holding his bow. "Don't worry about making too much noise, any infected come this way and I'll put 'em down."

"Well Clem?" asked Christa. "What's it going to be?"

"I guess I could try it." Matthew guided Clementine to the tire swing. The girl climbed into the tire while Christa positioned herself behind the swing.

"You ready?" asked Christa.

"I guess so." Christa gave the swing a shove, sending Clem up into the air. Christa watched as Clem just clung to the tire, a distressed look stuck on her face.

"Come on Clem," prodded Christa. "There's nothing wrong with you enjoying a swing."

"It's not that," said Clementine.

"Then what?" Clementine keep her gaze fixed on Matthew, who was looking out at the forest with his bow in hand.

"You're worried about these new people," concluded Christa as she stopped pushing the swing.

"Last time a couple of guys offered us food, it ended really badly."

"When was this?"

"Before I met you. There were these brothers called the St. Johns. They said they would give us food for gas." recounted Clem.

"And they didn't?" asked Christa.

"They were… horrible," muttered Clementine, not wanting to recount that day in detail. "They had a swing too, and when Lee pushed me on it, it felt like everything was going to be okay. But it wasn't."

"I'm sorry Clementine. I wish I could just tell you there's nothing to worry about, but we both know that's not true." Christa looked at Clementine, who seemed to looked more depressed than she did a minute ago. "Still, Omid was right, not everyone is out to get us. And these two seem well meaning enough."

"So did the St. Johns," noted Clem. "It was just a lie."

"You've always got to be careful around new people," concurred Christa. "Still, there are more of us than them."

"There was even more of us when we met the St. Johns," countered Clem.

"Okay, well…" Christa struggled to think of something comforting to say. "How bout this? Do you think if Lee hadn't pushed you on their swing, things would have happened any differently?"

"No. Why would…" Clem felt her stomach drop as Christa sent her flying with a hardy push. The swing spun around in circles a few times before coming to a sudden stop facing Christa.

"Might as well just swing then," smiled Christa. "Can't hurt, right?"

"I guess not." Clem smirked at Christa.

"All right, now hold on, because…"

"Wait." Clem stood up, positioning her feet on the seat of the swing and grabbing onto the rope like she saw Sarah do earlier. "Okay." Christa turned the swing around.

"Tarzan style. Just make sure you hold on real tight." Clem watched as the ground shrunk before her as she went flying into the air. Her heart raced as she clung to the rope, wind blowing past her face. Another push sent the whole world spinning, creating an odd swirl of color and shapes. Clem found it dizzying but exciting all at once.

"Your arm's not bothering you, is it?" asked Christa as Clem swung by.

"No," called Clem as the swing slowly stopped spinning. "I am kind of dizzy though." Christa grabbed the swing.

"You know, if you're really feeling brave, there's another way you can ride a tire swing," suggested Christa in playful voice.

"How?"

"Try climbing on top of it." Clem pulled herself up using the rope, seating herself atop the tire. She felt a little uneasy, with nothing beside her she was basically left with just the rope for stability. She also felt a lot higher off the ground sitting on top of the swing instead of in it.

"You sure this is a good idea?" asked Clem.

"If you don't feel comfortable you can just go back to how you were doing it before," reassured Christa.

"Did you ever ride a swing like this when you were little?"

"Lots of times," smirked Christa. "Used to do it one handed to show off to the other kids."

"You did?"

"Yeah, right until the day I lost my grip and flew off the damn thing," recalled Christa in a more regretful tone. "Maybe you should just come down."

"No, I want to try it," insisted Clem.

"All right, but you hold on tight with both hands, and we'll start with one push to make sure you like it." Clem gripped the rope as tightly as she could.

"I'm ready."

"All right, here we go." Christa pulled the swing back before hurling it forward with great force. Clem clung to the rope for dear life, feeling the swing would fly off without her if she let go. As she spun around, Clem was surprised by the almost skyward view she had as she flew back the other way. As the swing settled in place, Clem was ready to ask for another push, when she saw a walker lurching towards Matthew.

"You okay?" Christa's question was answered by Clem pointing towards Matthew. She turned around in time to watch an arrow soar into the walker's head. "It's fine. He's got it. You ready to go again?"

"I think I'm done," admitted Clem in a glum voice.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm not in the mood anymore," said Clem.

"I understand," consoled Christa as she helped Clem down.

"Thanks for pushing me though," said Clem.

"All done?" inquired Matthew as he approached the pair.

"Yeah, think that's it for today," answered Christa.

"All right then, let's eat." Matthew threw his bow over his shoulder and led the pair to the front door. Stepping inside, Clem found herself staring at a rustic open den hosting a large Christmas tree lit by waning sunlight from the windows. There was a stairwell near the tree that led to a small upstairs area where Sarah and Carlos were overlooking the rest of the lodge. Pete and Nick were sitting on a couch facing a roaring fireplace where Walter was stirring an iron pot. It reminded Clem a lot of the cabin, but nicer and with boxes of goods stacked up all over the place.

"Please tell me you two haven't been here offering food to people this entire time," requested Christa as she examined her surroundings.

"Okay, we won't," said Walter, amused by the request.

"But we totally have been," smirked Matthew.

"We've been living in a cabin south of here trying to get by on just a stream for months," lamented Christa.

"You should have come by, we always like company," suggested Walter.

"Yeah, we should have…" realized Christa.

"Company never gives you two any trouble, does it?" asked Pete.

"Occasionally," remarked Matthew.

"Pete was telling me they were chased out of their last home by some people and thought it be prudent for someone to stand watch tonight," reported Walter.

"Guess I'm camping out on the bridge again," concluded Matthew.

"Actually I was thinking me and my nephew would do it in shifts," suggested Pete.

"Nah, I can handle it," insisted Matthew. "I've always been a bit of a nightcrawler and I've gotten plenty of practice with this thing. Actually nailed an infected before I came in."

"I wish you didn't sound so proud every time you did that," lectured Walter.

"They're not people Walt," reminded Matthew.

"No, but they use to be people," retorted Walter.

"Oh, come on. I spent months figuring this thing out. Can you blame for me for feeling a little good about it?"

"You should feel a lotta good about it. Those damn things are pain in the ass," complimented Pete. "Still, I'd feel better if Nick and I just did the watch for tonight."

"And why's that?" asked Matthew, sounding less affable than before.

"Perhaps, Matthew could take the bridge and you and Nick could watch the north road?" suggested Walter. "Would that work for you?"

"Well, would you take one of our rifles with you?" Pete asked Matthew.

"That'd be pretty noisy," said Matthew.

"Well if things get noisy, you'd be glad to have it," said Pete.

"Are you expecting things to get noisy?" pondered Matthew.

"I just like to be prepared," answered Pete calmly. "You could bring your bow as well for lurkers. Nick and I got knives for them and can trade the rifle off to whoever's on watch."

"We don't have to do shifts, I could handle it," insisted Nick.

"I'd feel better if we traded off at some point," answered Pete.

"Your leg's never gonna get better if you don't ever get some rest," noted Nick.

"The last thing I need is to be babied right now," asserted Pete.

"I think he's just saying you'll want to be at your best tomorrow," suggested Walter. "These are dangerous times. Surely it's a good idea to keep in top form?"

"Yeah, what he said," spoke Nick.

"Feels like I'm being ganged up on to take the night off."

"Well, there is plenty you could do here, if that's you're concern," said Walter. "All though, that couch is notoriously comfortable." Pete sighed and rubbed his head.

"You sure you feel up for this?" asked Pete.

"Yeah, I'll get some sleep before nightfall," said Nick. "I'll be fine."

"Well, if it'll keep you two off my back for the evening, I guess I can stay here." Pete turned to Nick. "It's just…"

"Just what?" asked Nick.

"Nothing. Just... take care of yourself," said Pete.

"But please, don't be too hasty if we do have more visitors. In my experience, people are usually gracious if you can offer them a full stomach."

"Yeah, usually," repeated Matthew.

"Clementine," called Sarah as she came down the stairs. "Isn't this great?"

"Yeah, it is," awed Clem as she looked up at the Christmas tree.

"I was thinking…"

"Sarah," called Carlos as he approached. "What did I say? You leave Clementine alone."

"We were just talking," explained Sarah.

"You've talked enough for today. Come on." Sarah and Clem trade disappointed looks before Carlos pulled them apart. Turning away from Sarah, Clem saw Christa sitting at a large table in the middle of the room with a forlorn look on her face.

"What's wrong?" asked Clem.

"I was just thinking," said Christa in a soft voice. "If he was here, right now, he'd be chanting 'I'd told you so' right in my ear." Christa covered her face. "If I had just listened to him." Clem sat down next to Christa as she tried not to cry.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matthew.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Christa quickly wiped her eyes before looking up at Matthew. "Just, thinking about someone I use to know."

"If you're trying to find someone you should check our guest book," suggested Matthew.

"Guest book?" Matthew pointed at the front door. Turning around Clem noticed the surroundings walls were decorated with photographs, handwritten notes, and messages written on the wood in paint. Clem approached the wall, trying to pick a spot to focus on.

"A lot of people come through here, or at least they did in the early days. Not so much now," commented Matthew. "Most of them are usually looking for friends and family, so Walt told them to leave a message when they left. That way, if someone they know comes through here, they might know where to start looking."

"Um, did any of those people have a dog?" asked Clem.

"Not that I saw," answered Matthew. "Why?"

"Um, no reason." Clem honed in on a space on the wall that read 'Molly was here. Oct. 16th. Heading north west.' "You met Molly?"

"Yeah, older woman with a penchant for odd jokes about barnyard animals." Clem sighed. "Not the right Molly?"

"No, that doesn't sound like her," answered Clem.

"Well, you could put your name on the wall, in case your Molly does come through. All though, your friend over there didn't seem too eager to sign it." Matthew gestured to Pete.

"Didn't want to broadcast ourselves anymore then we already have," explained Pete. "If you know what I mean."

"Well, I don't think our names would be a problem," retorted Christa. "If you know what 'I' mean." Pete seemed annoyed by Christa's comment, but after some thought seemed to understand what she was saying.

"I reckon not," shrugged Pete.

"All right, come on." Matthew guided the pair over to a blank space near the bottom of the wall to the right of the door. "We try to keep people's visit in the order they arrived, so you guys can use this spot." Clem looked up at the names just above the space.

"Alice Underwood and Annabelle," read Clem.

"Those were out last guests. A little over a month ago." Matthew dragged a cardboard box out of the corner. "Big red headed gal in a overalls and a dark haired younger girl. Nice people, but not very talkative. Seemed like they had been through a lot." Clem looked into the box. It had a cup full of brushes, scotch tape, paper, pencils, some broken crayons and a variety of half-used paints.

"So what do we write?" asked Clementine as she looked at the brushes.

"Anything you want someone you know to see," suggested Matthew. "We've actually had people leave detailed instructions for their friends."

"Clem, can you think of anything to say?" asked Christa as she took a tube of purple paint from the box.

"Not right now," answered Clem as she grabbed the pink paint.

"You could just start with your names and add on to it later." Christa and Clem shrugged at each other before applying their brushes to the wood. Clem took care to write as neatly as possible, then took a step back to observe her work. Seeing her and Christa's names along with all the others painted on the wall felt oddly uplifting.

"Sorry for the delay." Clem turned around to find Walter carrying a pot to the table. "It's been a long time since I've had to cook for eight people."

"What's on the menu?" inquired Pete as everyone gathered at the dinner table.

"Beans and peaches mostly. But seeing as we have so many guests I decided to open something special." Walter placed an small tin on the table.

"What's that?" asked Nick.

"Powered milk," answered Walter.

"We're gonna have milk?" asked Sarah, beaming at the possibility.

"Just mix in a few spoonfuls with your water if you want some," instructed Walter.

"When you said opening something special, I was thinking more like whiskey," commented Pete as he sat down.

"Sorry, but most people don't usually donate booze to kids," explained Matthew. "Much to my everlasting disappointment."

"I don't think I've had milk since I left home," realized Clementine as she took her seat.

"Yeah, me neither," added Christa. "Not a lot of dairies around anymore." Clementine couldn't help but cringe at hearing the word dairy.

"Just make sure you mix it well. It's not exactly farm fresh, but it's nice to have something other than water," explained Walter.

"Also a good source of calcium," commented Carlos. "It's become hard to find foods that are anymore."

"It's mighty nice of you two to put us up like this," said Pete, sounding almost sentimental.

"Well, there is one last thing we need before we start dinner," said Walter.

"Really?" asked Matthew, seemingly disturbed by Walter's suggestion.

"I think they'll like it." Matthew sighed and moved to what looked like an antique cabinet placed against the back wall. Everyone watched in anticipation as Matthew flipped open the lid.

"Is that…" Christa leaned forward for a better look. "Is that a record player?"

"A Victor Talking Machine," announced Walter as Matthew placed a record on the the machine. "Also known as a Victrola. Quite the antique, which carries one major advantage in these trying times." Matthew inserted a crank into the machine and started turning it. "It doesn't use electricity." The turn table started spinning and the sound of an elegant choir singing filled the air.

"How bout that," noted Pete, bemused by the contraption.

"I think that's everything," smiled Walter. "Dinner is served."


	21. Breaking Bread

Clementine looked down at the beans and peaches on her plate, practically drooling from the intoxicating aroma. She started digging into her dinner while the Victrola sang on about a noble king. She took a spoonful of peaches and savored their sweet syrup in her mouth for a moment before swallowing it. The beans were next, providing Clem with a treat that was hearty as it was warm. After that Clem reached for the powdered milk, hastily taking three spoonfuls and vigorously stirring into her cup of water. She took a quick sip, finding a taste not quite like milk as she remembers but more appetizing than anything she had tasted in a long time.

"I think I've heard this before," commented Christa, listening to the music. "It's a Christmas song."

"Good King Wenceslas," informed Walter.

"And it's downhill from there with O Christmas Tree and Deck the Halls," listed a disinterested Matthew. "And the flip side is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer."

"I love that song," said Sarah.

"I'd have preferred some Pink Floyd myself," said Matthew.

"You'll have to excuse Matthew, he's a regular Grinch," joked Walter. "He first instinct when we found the Christmas decorations was to throw them out."

"I did not want to throw them out," insisted Matthew. "Just said, we could use the space and when you suggested putting them on the tree I was like, fine. And I wouldn't mind the holiday tunes if we literally had anything else to listen to it."

"Personally, I always find this song heartwarming. A noble King deciding to brave the harsh winter to deliver a feast to a single peasant while guiding his page through the cold," spoke Walter. "Mark my footsteps and tread in them boldly, thou shall find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly."

"I don't get it," said Sarah.

"The king is going ahead of the page so he'll take the worst of the weather," explained Carlos. "He's suffering so the page won't have to."

"No, I get that," said Sarah. "But isn't the page only out in the cold because the king wanted to help the peasant?" Walter turned to Sarah, a bemused look on his face. "Is… Is that wrong?"

"No, that's a very interesting perspective," noted Walter. "I never considered the page may not want to accompany King Wenceslas."

"If the guy is a king, then a page would pretty much have to do what he said," speculated Nick. "Wouldn't he?"

"If he did, then what happens to the page would be on the king," added Pete. "Good or bad."

"What if it's the other way around?" asked Christa. "In the song, the page is the one who knows where the peasant lives. Maybe the page is the one who wants to make the trip and the king feels obligated to help him."

"Maybe they should've just left the peasant," suggested Clem in a downtrodden voice.

"And why would you say that?" asked Walter, equally concerned as curious.

"Well, they wouldn't be in the cold at all if it wasn't for the peasant," answered Clem.

"It's not the peasant's fault the weather is bad," noted Sarah.

"And the peasant didn't ask to be fed," added Walter. "I've always liked to think the king and page decided to make the journey together because of their shared goodwill to their fellow man. What about you Matthew? What do you think?" Matthew stared at Walter a moment before answering.

"I think only you could start a round table debate about an old Christmas song," said Matthew.

"Thank you," smirked a smug Walter. "But I think the credit would have to go to Sarah for starting the conversation."

"I'm sorry," apologized Sarah.

"Don't be, it's been a stimulating discussion," complimented Walter.

"Watch out," warned Matthew. "If you're not careful, Walt's going to drag you into our never ending Kirk versus Picard debate. That's how we chased off our last guests. They'd rather take their chances with the infected then listen to us compare the Corbomite Maneuver to outwitting the Sheliak, again."

"Well that might be because this epidemic will eventually end, where as that particular debate will not," suggested Walter.

"Well I wouldn't count on the lurkers going anywhere anytime soon," asserted Pete. "From what I've seen, they're here to stay."

"What have you seen actually?" asked Walter. "We've been right here almost the entire time, so any news from the rest of the world is always welcome. Talking to other travelers, it sounds like we're all in the dark about the state of human race."

"Well, Nick and I can both tell you there's nothing left in Hardeeville at this point," reported Pete in a dismal tone. "I'd also stay away from Rincon and Springfield, and especially Savannah. That place is overflowing with the dead."

"Savannah was fucked before they showed up," corrected Christa.

"When were you in Savannah?" asked Pete.

"About half a year ago."

"We actually met a family who came out of Savannah a long while back," said Matthew. "They told us the people left there were organizing to try and retake the city from the infected."

"It didn't work out," said Christa.

"You're sure?" asked Matthew.

"We saw it ourselves," insisted Christa.

"They were all dead when we got there," added Clem in a dismal voice.

"Where else have you been?" asked Walter.

"I was in Macon," said Clem. "But I wouldn't go back there."

"No people there either?" asked Matthew.

"Only bad ones," answered Clem.

"Everything's fucked," mumbled Nick.

"No, not everything," corrected Walter. "Our combined experiences only cover a small portion of Georgia, not the world."

"Actually Hardeeville is in South Carolina," remarked Pete. "It's right on the border."

"My mistake," said Walter. "But my point still stands, we've only seen a sliver of the entire world between all of us. It's actually more likely than not there are places that have contained the outbreak."

"Where?" asked an unconvinced Nick. "If rescue's coming, how come we've never seen any signs of it?"

"There were a great many people in a great many places needing rescue long before the outbreak, and there's likely far more in need of help now," noted Walter. "But I believe there are people working to fight this crisis, even if we haven't been fortunate enough to find them. It's important not to assume our limited experiences reflect the entire state of the planet."

"Why?" asked Sarah, genuinely curious.

"Because, the world's not over," stated Walter in a certain tone. "It can be easy to think that when you're overwhelmed by such tribulations, but mankind has endured such horrors before and we will do it again."

"You really think so?" asked Clementine.

"Personally, I'm having a hard time picturing us coming out on top of this after everything that's happened," admitted Christa.

"I'd imagine so did those who suffered through the Black Death," commented Walter. "A plague that wiped out half the human race wherever it spread for years and reemerged throughout human history over centuries. But as a species, we beat it."

"Yeah, but that plague just killed people," noted Pete. "This one turns people into killers immune to everything but a headshot."

"And we all know that now, and have an additional six centuries of progress to help us deal with this new problem," argued Walter.

"The bubonic plague was also communicable through insects, animals and direct contact with those who had it, living or dead," added Carlos. "Lurkers only have one way to infect the living."

"They don't have to," commented Christa. "We're doing a pretty good job of killing each other." Nick sank in his seat, a sullen expression forming on his face.

"We were doing a pretty good job of that before as well," noted Walter. "But even at our worst, we've never finished ourselves off as a species, and I don't think this will either."

"God I love it when you talk that." Matthew was grinning from ear to ear at Walter, who smiled right back.

"Well, um, we'd hate to impose on you two," said Pete. "We'll be sure to get out of your hair by tomorrow morning."

"There's no need to rush off," assured Walter. "In fact, if you need to stay another day or more, we'd be happy to have you."

"That's nice of you to offer," said Pete. "But we've already detoured from our original plan enough as it is, so…"

"Hang on," interrupted Christa. "I wouldn't mind staying here for a little while."

"I really think it's best we get moving again as soon as we can," insisted Pete.

"Then you go," suggested Christa. "I think I'd be more, comfortable, just staying here with them for the time being."

"If you don't mind me asking, how far along are you?" asked Walter.

"Over eight months," answered Christa. "I've had a little trouble nailing down the exact date, but considering how hard it was getting out here, I'm thinking it's closer to nine at this point." Christa turned to Clementine. "You wouldn't mind staying here, right?" Clementine looked around at the lodge, the plate she had licked clean, and at Walter and Matthew.

"I wouldn't mind staying," answered Clem.

"Well…" Pete took a deep breath. "If that's what you two want, then maybe parting ways is for the best."

"You could all stay here you know," suggested Walter. "We wouldn't have meals this nice every night because, as I said, we're trying to learn how to live off the land. But you're all welcome to stay. You wouldn't even be the first group to stay with us for a while."

"Nah, the rest of will be moving on in the morning," informed Pete. 'So…"

"Speak for yourself," interrupted Carlos. "I think Sarah and I would be better suited staying here as well."

"Wait what?" exclaimed Christa. "No. No way."

"This isn't your home," reminded Carlos. "You don't say who goes or stay."

"Since when do you care whose home you're in?" snarled Christa.

"Now, now, there's no need to fight over this," assured Walter. "Like I said, you're all welcome to stay."

"Yes, you've been gracious hosts to me and my daughter," noted Carlos as he turned to Christa. "Treating us how I'd expect someone would treat a parent and his child."

"You're gonna talk to me about how to treat people with kids after what you pulled?" snapped Christa. "I'd rather leave with them then stay here with you." Clementine sighed and laid her head on the table, uninterested in another argument.

"Gee, thanks a lot," scoffed Nick.

"By all means, leave with Pete and Nick," suggested Carlos.

"Now you wait a god damn minute," growled Pete.

"You just gave her and her girl your blessing to remain here a minute ago," reminded Carlos.

"You and I made a deal," retorted Pete.

"One you haven't upheld," answered Carlos.

"Because we haven't got there yet," bellowed Pete.

"You won't even tell me where there is," argued Carlos. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't owe you anything."

"What about all the food and water we got for you and Sarah?" asked Nick.

"You got food and water for her and her girl, I don't see either of you demanding payment from them," noted Carlos.

"We didn't fucking ask to be here!" A sharp whistle followed Christa's outburst. Everyone turned to see Walter was making the noise.

"People, please," urged Walter in a commanding voice. "Obviously, there's a lot of tension amongst your group, but I urge you to remember you have children present." Clementine looked up and caught sight of Sarah from across the table, who was clearly bothered by the argument.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" asked a worried Carlos.

"I... I just don't like it when you yell," admitted a nervous Sarah.

"May I make a suggestion?" said Walter. "Have this discussion in the morning, after a good night's sleep. Even if you can't reconcile you're differences, it would be easier to agree to disagree with a rested mind." An awkward silence followed Walter's suggestion.

"I'm guessing we can keep behaved, at least for the evening, right y'all?" The rest of the group looked to Pete, silently agreeing with him.

"Very well. As host, I hereby declare all disagreements postponed until morning," proclaimed Walter in a humorous manner. "Also, any help with the dishes would be welcomed." As Clementine cleaned up her plate and cup, she couldn't help but watch as Carlos put his arm around Sarah.

"I'm sorry I yelled sweetheart," apologized Carlos, sounding ashamed as he did so. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Um, well." Sarah looked to Clementine. "Can I spend the evening with Clementine?"

"Sarah," spoke a reluctant Carlos. "I don't think that's a good idea,"

"Why not?" asked Sarah.

"It's just not."

"But why?" repeated Sarah. "She helps me. She's really cool and smart. And I really like her."

"It's just…" Carlos struggled to find an excuse. "You don't want to bother her, do you?"

"She doesn't bother me," insisted Clementine. "I like talking to her." Sarah smiled at Clementine, which just made Clem want to smile herself.

"I could fix up the overlook for you two if you want," suggested Walter as he collected the dishes. "You could have your own sleepover up there."

"Oh, that'd be great," said an excited Sarah.

"Yes, but, I don't think Clementine's mother would approve." Christa groaned to herself when she heard Carlos call her Clem's mother.

"You know what?" said Christa. "I don't think Clem's mom minds." Christa shot Carlos a sinister smile, who sneered in response.

"See dad?" said Sarah. "She's say it's okay." Carlos sighed.

"Well, as long as you girls promise not to talk about anything scary." Carlos looked directly at Clementine. "I guess it would be fine for the night."

"We won't," assured a weary Clementine.

"I have some sleeping bags you two can borrow for the night," said Walter. "As soon as we finish with the dishes I'll go get them."

"We'll help." Carlos gestured to Sarah, and the pair picked up the dishes and followed Walter.

"Be careful around her," warned Christa.

"Who? Sarah?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah."

"I will. I don't want her to get hurt."

"I mean be careful yourself around her," clarified Christa. "You're the one I'm worried about getting hurt."

"You think Sarah would hurt me?" asked Clementine in disbelief, annoyed at Christa's suggestion.

"You never know. Don't forget who her father is."

"It's kinda hard not to," grumbled Clementine. "You keep yelling at him."

"Well, come tomorrow morning we won't have to worry about him anymore," assured Christa. "You and I aren't going anywhere."

"Okay..." answered Clementine, unsure what Christa meant by that.

"You ready?" Clementine turned to see Walter with a couple of rolled up sleeping bags under his arms, Carlos and Sarah standing beside him.

"Yeah," nodded Clementine.

"Remember," Carlos said to Sarah. "If you need anything at all, you come right to me."

"I will," assured Sarah.

"And don't forget what we discussed," Carlos said to Clementine.

"I won't." Carlos looked at Clementine for a moment, then moved away. Clem watched as he and Christa exchanged glances as he passed her by.

"Come on." Sarah took Clem by the hand. "This is going to be great." Sarah led Clementine up the stairs with an unbridled enthusiasm. Reaching the top, Clem was taken back by the view. The lodge was already very scenic, but looking down at it in its entirety was breathtaking.

"Enjoying the view?" asked Walter as he laid the sleeping bags down.

"Your place is the best," complimented Sarah. "I love your Christmas tree. It reminds me of the one we use to put up in my house, expect ours had an angel on top of it instead of a star."

"Actually, there might an angel with the leftover decorations."

"Really?" asked an excited Sarah.

"There in the corner. Again, had to spare them Matthew's wrath." Walter gestured to a cardboard box. "Feel free to redecorate while I'll collect some essentials." Walter moved back downstairs while Sarah started digging through the box.

"Check it out." Clem watched as Sarah pulled a haloed figure in a golden dress out of the box.

"Wow," awed Clementine as she admired the ornament's details.

"Come on, let's put it on the tree." Sarah rushed over to the spot overlooking the top of the tree and reached for the star on top. "It's too far." Sarah turned to Clementine. "Maybe if you rode on my shoulders you could reach it."

"You think you could lift me?" asked Clementine.

"You don't look that heavy."

"I guess we could try." Clem watched as Sarah knelt down. She carefully looped her legs onto the older girl's shoulders. Sarah wrapped her arms around Clem's shins and carefully stood up. Clem felt a little uneasy as she was carried forward, but seeing the tree grow nearer caused her to instinctively reach out towards the star. She grabbed the topper and passed it down to Sarah, who handed the angelic one up. With a little care, Clem set the heavenly observer atop the tree. Sarah took a few steps back, allowing her and Clementine to see their work in its entirety.

"It's just like home," whispered Sarah in a sentimental voice.

"Quite the creative solution," Sarah turned towards Walter as he emerged at the top of the stairs with a box in hand. Clem couldn't help but feel amused that by riding on Sarah's shoulders, she actually felt taller than someone for once.

"Thanks again for letting us stay here," said Sarah.

"And for dinner," added Clem. "You're really generous."

"Oh, not at all," insisted Walter. "This lodge, these supplies aren't ours so much as we simply discovered them first, so really, we're not giving up all that much."

"A lot of people would just keep them," commented Clementine.

"Like I said, Matthew and I have been fortunate to have plenty to eat so far. From the sounds of things, a lot of people don't even have that much, so we're always happy to share."

"A lot of people would just keep everything, even if they already had plenty," said Clementine.

"Well, I guess Matthew and I are just different." Clem smiled at the man. Walter set down the box he was carrying while Sarah knelt down, allowing Clementine to step off her shoulders.

"I brought you some water if you get thirsty, a few candles and a lighter for when it gets dark. I assume you're both old enough to know not to play with them." Clem and Sarah nodded. "And…" Walter removed a box with a checkers board on the cover. "Thought you could use some entertainment for the evening."

"You don't have a chess board, do you?" asked Sarah.

"No, but we managed to make our own by cutting up sheets of paper and writing the pieces' names on the slips," explained Walter as he handed the box to Sarah. "They're in there with the checkers."

"Hey Walt," called Matthew as he came up the stairs. "Just wanted you to know I'm heading out to get an early start on playing bridge keeper for the night."

"You be careful," warned Walter.

"You worry too much," smirked Matthew.

"Only because I love you so much." Walt tenderly kissed Matthew on the lips.

"Come get me if anything happens." said Matthew. "I'll be on the far side of the bridge watching the road." Matthew headed back downstairs while Walter turned back to the girls.

"And if you two need anything, I'll just be downstairs." Walter smiled before leaving Sarah and Clementine alone. Sarah took the checkers box and placed it between the sleeping bags Walter had laid out.


	22. Slumber Party

"So, guys can kiss other guys?" asked Sarah as she opened the checkers box.

"I guess so," shrugged Clementine.

"Does that mean girls can kiss other girls?" pondered Sarah as she laid out the checkers board.

"I don't know. I guess," answered Clem.

"Does that mean we can kiss?" asked Sarah as she collected the various handmade chess pieces.

"Uhh… Do you want to kiss?" asked Clem, unsure what to think of that question.

"No, I'm just thinking out loud." Sarah started placing the pieces on the board.

"About kissing?" asked Clementine.

"My dad says I'm at an age where I'll think about kissing and boys and things like that. And that this is the time in my life when I go from being a girl to being a woman."

"How?" wondered Clementine, genuinely interested.

"I don't know. I really don't feel any different from a few years ago. Well, except for this one thing."

"What thing?" Sarah tensed up. Looking at her Clem noticed she looked a little embarrassed. "Is it something bad?"

"It's definitely not good," said Sarah in an uncomfortable voice.

"What is it?"

"Um… I'll tell about you about it when you get older."

"If I ever get any older."

"Clementine," exclaimed a concerned Sarah. "Why do you say things like that?"

"I don't know. It just feels like I'm going to be little forever, and I'm sick of it."

"You're only going to be little for a little while," said Sarah. "You should enjoy it. Once you grow up you'll never be little again."

"Kinda hard to enjoy being little anymore," said Clementine. "Now that everything's changed."

"I guess that's true," conceded Sarah. "I… I never saw one that close before."

"You mean the walker?" asked Clem.

"Yeah. They're… They really are… dead," surmised a nervous Sarah. "But they keep moving. How is that possible?"

"I have no idea," admitted Clementine.

"Why do they want to hurt people?"

"I don't know."

"Where did they come from?"

"I don't know that either."

"And they're just everywhere now?"

"Yeah, they are," answered Clementine in a weak voice.

"Have you seen a lot of them before?"

"Thousands…" Clementine looked at Sarah and saw she was becoming frightened. "Let's not talk about walkers."

"Yeah… That's a good idea. Let's just have fun tonight." Sarah turned to the checkerboard covered in crudely made chess pieces. "You can go first."

"Umm…" Clementine looked down at the slips of paper with words like 'pawn' and 'bishop' written on them in utter bewilderment. "Actually, I don't really know how to play. My dad was going to teach me, but…"

"Well, I could teach you," suggested Sarah. "The pawns can only move forward." Sarah gestured to the front row of pieces, which were entirely pawns. "You can move them one space forward per turn. Except if it's the first time they've moved, then they go ahead two spaces. Now you can only move them forward in a straight line, but they can only take other pieces diagonally."

"Does that mean they can move backwards diagonally?"

"No, they can only capture pieces one space diagonally forward," explained Sarah. "Now, if you get one to the other side, you can choose to…"

"Do you think we could just play checkers instead?" suggested Clementine, finding the rules of a single chess piece somewhat intimidating.

"Sure." Sarah collected the chess pieces.

"I'm sorry, It's just…"

"It's cool," assured Sarah as she started setting checkers on the board. "Chess is kinda complicated, but it's super fun once you learn how. Maybe I can teach you some other time."

"Sure." Clementine watched as Sarah finished setting up the board.

"Now, do you want play where you have to jump a piece if you can, or not?"

"I always played it where you didn't have to jump," said Clem.

"Okay, we'll do that. You want to go first?"

"Sure." Clem picked one of her pieces and moved it forward.

"So, what did you think of dinner?" asked Sarah.

"It was the best meal I've had in a really long time," professed Clem.

"Yeah, it was pretty good," said Sarah as she moved a piece.

"Only pretty good?"

"Well, the place we stay before had really good food most of the time," explained Sarah. "It was great having milk again though, even if it was powdered."

"I didn't even use to like milk really," admitted Clem. "But now, I'd be glad to have more of it."

"What do you miss eating most?" asked Sarah.

"I guess ice cream," said Clem. "I used to love ice cream."

"Even though you didn't like milk?"

"Yeah, I know. My mom used to tease me about that." Clem paused as she started thinking about her parents again.

"Clem," said Sarah. "It's your move."

"Right." Clem jumped one of Sarah's pieces.

"I miss having bread most," said Sarah.

"Really? Why?"

"Because you can do so much with it," explained Sarah. "You can toast it, make sandwiches with it, dip it in soup, or cheese, or lots of things really."

"Yeah, but then you would need all that stuff too," noted Clem as she moved a piece.

"That's true." Sarah leapt one of Clementine's pieces. "What do you miss most from before?" Clementine considered the question.

"Everything," answered a dispirited Clementine.

"Yeah, me too," agreed a weary Sarah. "But if you had to pick one thing to get back, and it couldn't be something big like electricity, what would you pick?"

"I don't know. What would you pick?"

"I'd just like to have a hot shower again."

"Really?"

"Yeah, when I couldn't sleep I'd use to take a hot shower and it would help me relax," explained Sarah. "But now there isn't running water anymore."

"I use to hate taking a bath," admitted Clem. "I never thought I would miss that. I miss a lot of things I didn't use to like."

"But what did you like?"

"Well, it would nice if we still had TV," said Clem. "I used to love watching cartoons with my dad on the weekends."

"Did you ever watch any Disney movies?"

"Yeah."

"Which one was your favorite?"

"Um, probably Bambi."

"Oh, but that one's so sad," said Sarah. "His mom dies and people burn down the forest."

"Those parts were sad, but he also falls in love, and has kids, and at the end of the movie he's helping to keep the forest safe," said Clem. "Which one was your favorite?"

"Cinderella."

"Why that one?"

"Because she was a really good person even when her step sisters and step mother were really mean to her," explained Sarah. "You didn't like it?"

"It was okay," shrugged Clementine. "I just never really got the fairy godmother. Why didn't she just come sooner?"

"Maybe she couldn't?" suggested Sarah

"Why not?"

"I don't know," shrugged Sarah. "Maybe she only comes when you really need it? Like, she's watching out for the people who tried their hardest and never got what they wanted?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Clementine watched as Sarah jumped another one of her pieces.

"King me." Clementine placed a checker on top of the piece that made it across the board. "You know what wish I still had that we could get?"

"What?"

"A toothbrush. I left mine at the cabin and now I'm not going to be able to brush my teeth until I get a new one."

"You actually want to brush your teeth?"

"Yeah, my dad said it's more important to brush my teeth than ever."

"And you believe that?" asked Clem in a droll tone, surprised by Sarah's priorities.

"Of course. He said if I get a cavity now, I can't go to a dentist, and I'd be stuck with a sore tooth forever," explained Sarah. "Then it would hurt every time I'd eat, and there'd be nothing I could do about it."

"Huh." Sarah's observation made Clem reconsider her own priorities. "Now I wish I had a toothbrush."

"My dad said I won't get any more teeth, so I got to take care of them."

"One of mine is loose actually," noted Clementine.

"That's right, you still got baby teeth," realized Sarah. "When it comes out you should put it under your pillow. The tooth fairy will give you five dollars for it," suggested Sarah. "Oh wait, we don't use money anymore. Hmm, I wonder if she gives out something different now?"

"You believe in the tooth fairy?" asked Clementine in disbelief.

"You don't?" asked Sarah.

"No. It's like believing in Santa." Sarah's face dropped upon hearing that comparison. "You still believe in Santa too?"

"You… you don't?" asked Sarah in a confused voice.

"No. When I was six I stayed up really late to see him and found out it was just my parents putting presents under the tree."

"Oh." Sarah looked crushed.

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

"I… I think I kinda did actually," confessed Sarah. "I always thought it was weird my dad would buy me lots of birthday presents, but only a few for Christmas and let Santa bring me the rest. I… I guess I'm too old to believe in stuff like that anymore."

"Well, dead people are moving around. So, unbelievable things do happen," reasoned Clementine. "All though, what did you think when Santa didn't bring you anything this year?" Sarah suddenly looked very guilty. "Wait, you didn't get anything for Christmas this year, did you?"

"When I woke up on Christmas morning there were all these new books and this jacket stacked up against my bed."

"Really?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah, when I saw that, I thought Santa was really real, and maybe things were still good. But it was probably just my dad. He probably put that money under my pillow too." Sarah's face sank. "This sucks. Santa and the Tooth Fairy aren't real, but monsters are?" Hearing Sarah say it out loud like that made Clementine realize how absurd their situation was.

"It's bullshit." Clem looked to Sarah for the inevitable scolding, but the older girl had no reaction to hearing Clem swear this time.

"Yeah…" said Sarah in an downtrodden voice as she moved one of her pieces. "King me."

"I'm sorry," apologized Clem as she kinged Sarah's piece. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's not fair that so many bad things are real."

"It's not just that," Clem watched as Sarah seemed to grow irritated. "I really bugs me that my dad lied to me."

"Well, it's not like he's the only one to tell his kid about Santa," reasoned Clem. "I was kinda mad too when I found out. But when I went back to school after Christmas, I heard some of the other kids talk about all the stuff Santa brought them and how happy it made them, and realized my parents were just trying to make me happy too."

"Or they just want kids to be good. I mean, that must be why they tell us Santa won't bring you anything if you're bad, so you'll behave all year," realized an embittered Sarah. "It's just a way to trick us into doing what they say."

"I… I don't think that's why they do it," said Clem, unsure of her answer. "I think it's just a way to… surprise us."

"You really think so?" asked Sarah, clearly unconvinced.

"Well." Clem struggled to think of an rationale. "Did your dad tell you to be good this Christmas?"

"Actually, he said Santa probably wouldn't make it this year," recounted Sarah. "That was about a week before Christmas."

"And he still got you presents, even though it's a lot harder, and didn't even tell you it was him," listed Clementine. "And he gave you money when you lost you're teeth. He was trying to make you happy. Not trick you."

"Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda bothers me though. Even if he was just trying to make me happy, he still lied to me," realized Sarah. "Do you think there's anything else he's not telling me?"

"Um…" Clementine felt herself struggling to think of something to tell Sarah, despite actually knowing the answer.

"Do you know anything else he hasn't told me?"

"No," hastily lied Clementine.

"But you think there's things he's not telling me," concluded Sarah.

"Maybe, but, that doesn't mean it's anything bad." Clem found herself nearly choking on her tongue saying that. "I mean, you don't tell him everything. You haven't told him about my gun, have you?" Clementine tensed up as she asked that question, realizing she wasn't sure of the answer.

"No." Clem breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't want to get us into trouble."

"See? We keep secrets too. Sometimes, it's just easier not to tell people everything," explained Clementine in a somber tone.

"I guess you're right," said Sarah in a warmer voice. "I know my dad loves me, so I shouldn't worry."

"Did you really get five dollars a tooth?"

"Yeah. What'd you get?"

"I'd only get a dollar."

"I'm sorry. If I had any money, I'd give it to you." Sarah jumped two pieces. "King me." Clementine looked down at the board and realized how poor her chances of winning were.

"Wow, you're really good at this," realized Clementine.

"Do you want me to let you win?" offered Sarah.

"No," rejected a defensive Clementine. "I just... gotta try harder."

"Okay." Clementine started eyeing the board more carefully. "Do you want a brother or a sister?"

"Huh?"

"Your mom's baby," clarified Sarah. "Would you rather have a brother or a sister?"

"I don't know." Clem considered the question. "I always did want a sister. But I'd be happy if it was a boy too. What about you? Did you ever want brothers or sisters?"

"Yeah."

"Brother or sister?"

"Either, or both even," said Sarah. "I love my dad, but he had to work a lot, so sometimes I'd get lonely. Do you ever feel lonely?"

"Yeah, I do." Clem sighed as Sarah moved one of her kings. Looking at the board, Clementine saw that Sarah's last move had given her a huge opportunity. Clementine jumped two kings and one other checker to reach the end of the board.

"King me," said Clementine triumphantly.

"That was great." Clem found it odd Sarah was smiling so much as she kinged Clem's piece.

"You didn't let me do that on purpose, did you?" Sarah's face practically screamed guilty. "I told you not to let me win."

"I didn't, you haven't won yet," smiled Sarah. "I'm just giving you a chance to win, but I'm not letting you win."

"You're not?" asked a dubious Clementine.

"Nope," smiled Sarah. "My dad use to do this for me when I played chess with him. He said he'd give me opportunities, but he wouldn't tell me about them, so I'd always have to pay attention."

"But he doesn't do that anymore?"

"He told me he didn't have to anymore." Sarah moved one of her pieces. The odd smile on her face felt infectious, causing Clementine to smile.

"Sarah," said Clementine. "Do you still want to be friends?"

"Of course," answered an overjoyed Sarah. "But wait, you're mom says she doesn't want to stay here if me and my dad stays. So, we might not be together after tonight." Clementine hadn't thought of that. She looked at Sarah and saw the excitement in her eyes dim with every passing second.

"Wanna be friends anyway?" suggested Clementine. "Even if it's just tonight?"

"I'd love to," answered a touched Sarah. "Oh, but we got to do it right."

"Do it right?" Sarah held out her pinky.

"You gotta swear you and I will always be friends."

"Even though we might not see each other again after tomorrow." Clem chuckled as she held out her pinky, only for Sarah to pull hers back.

"I'm serious," said Sarah in a thoughtful tone. "I want to know you really do care about me and that you want to be together. Because I care about you and if you leave tomorrow, I'd still think about you even if we never meet again. So, I only want you to do this if you feel like that about me."

Clementine was surprised by just how significant this seemed to be to Sarah. She watched as the older girl moved her hand back towards her, the pinky still extended. Looking at Sarah, Clem could see the anticipation brimming in her eyes and the nervousness hanging on her face. The weight of what Sarah said felt as if it was holding Clem's arm in place, and yet Clementine found herself pushing it forward anyways, crossing pinkies with Sarah before locking them together tightly in each other's grasp.

"A pinky swear is forever," whispered a passionate Sarah.

"Then I guess we'll be friends forever." Clementine found herself oddly content staring at the warm expression on Sarah's face while clutching her pinky. Seeing her newly christened friend bathed in the same evening sunlight that made the tree's angel glisten brought a tranquility to Clementine's heart that had been absent for longer than she could remember.

"So… um… do you want to keep playing?" asked Sarah, still giddy from the promise.

"Of course." Clementine let go of Sarah's hand. "I still think I can win."

"What if you don't?" asked Sarah in a playful voice.

"Then we'll have to play again," answered an equally playful Clementine.

"What if you don't win that one either?"

"Then I guess we'll just have to keep playing."

"And if you still don't win?"

"Then I guess we'll have to play all night."


	23. Keep Your Enemies Closer

Clementine opened her eyes. It was dark now, but there was enough light from the fireplace to look around. Something had roused her unexpectedly from her sleep. Her first instinct was that Sarah was trying to wake her, as it felt like something had shook her. But she saw Sarah was still in her sleeping bag, exactly where she remembered her being before turning in.

Listening closely, Clementine could hear voices. Looking over the handrail she could see a couple of figures standing by the front door, but she couldn't make out what they were saying from the distance. She headed for the stairs, but stopped when she noticed her backpack sitting by the sleeping bag. Clem quickly slipped it and her hat on, then crept down the stairs as quietly as she could.

Moving through the living area she could see Pete asleep on the sofa. As she neared the front entrance, Clem ducked underneath the dinner table for cover. Moving beneath the table, she could see Christa and Walter standing near the front door as she neared the other end.

"I understand your concern," whispered Walter. "But what you're suggesting…"

"These people are dangerous," insisted Christa in a hushed voice. "I told you what they did to us. We've basically been their hostages and I don't know what they've been telling Clementine, but they've got her so scared she won't even think about leaving them." Clementine grimaced upon hearing Christa's assessment of her.

"But I don't think this is the answer," said Walter.

"Then what?" asked Christa. "These people are being followed and if Carlos stays here, they'll bring whatever they're running from here, just like they did to my home. You need to…"

"He needs to what?" Clementine watched in shock as Carlos stepped into the dim light. "Please, do continue."

"Right now, we just need to talk," reassured Walter in a calm voice. "All three of us."

"Were you just sitting there in dark, spying on us?" accused Christa.

"Perhaps you'd rather I skulk around behind people's backs like you?" suggested Carlos in a sinister voice. "Did she mention how her husband tried to kill me just for asking for help?"

"You weren't asking me," asserted Christa. "And you were the one with a man lying in wait to kill one of us."

"Did she also tell you how she gave her girl a gun?"

"To protect herself from the likes of you."

"Look, I don't know what happened between you two before, but whatever it was, there's no reason to make it worse now," said Walter. "Let's just, keep talking."

"I think we're done talking," stated Carlos in a sinister voice.

"Whatta know, we actually agree for once," retorted Christa through gritted teeth.

"Please, just listen to me." Walter's plea seemed to fall on deaf ears as Christa and Carlos stared each other down, each waiting for the other to make a move. Clementine felt her stomach tying itself into a knot as she watched the whole scene unfold from under the table. A sense of panic shot up her spine when she noticed Carlos was holding something behind his back. It was Pete's pistol.

Clem instinctively removed her backpack and reached into it for her own gun. But feeling around, she couldn't find it. She looked into the bag and realized something else alarming. It was missing.

"Let's just sit down, all of us." advised Walter. "Whatever this is, we can still…" Carlos drew his pistol, prompting Christa to draw hers. The pair took aim as Walter placed himself between them.

"Get out of the way Walter!" ordered Christa.

"This isn't your concern!" dictated Carlos.

"You're pointing guns at each other in my home, this absolutely concerns me." Walter found himself awkwardly repositioning himself as Christa and Carlos kept trying to aim past him. "I've given you both food and shelter, the least you can do is listen to me now when I say, please, put your guns down."

"Him first," insisted Christa.

"So you can finally make good on your promise to kill me?" retorted Carlos.

"No one is killing anyone," asserted Walter.

"She's been saying she'd kill us this entire time!" bellowed Carlos.

"Because you fuckers killed the man I love!" yelled Christa.

"Just stop!" commanded Walter.

"She won't stop," growled Carlos.

"And there's only way to stop him." Christa and Carlos sidestepped Walter, guns trained on each other.

"Dad?" Carlos looked up to see his daughter watching the scene from the overlook. "What… what are you doing?"

"Sarah it's… it's okay," insisted Carlos, his voice trembling.

"Why do you have both guns? Why are you pointing them at each other?" asked a panicked Sarah.

"We're…" Carlos found himself at a complete loss for words.

"You gonna shoot someone in front of your own daughter?" mocked Christa.

"Are you?" Clementine emerged from her hiding spot.

"Clementine?" exclaimed Christa. "How long…"

"Since right after you took my gun," concluded an angry Clementine.

"Think about how what you're doing will affect them," instructed Walter. "Both of them." Christa and Carlos found themselves focusing on Clementine and Sarah, unable to look away from the girls.

"Ask yourselves, what do you stand to gain from pulling that trigger?" asked Walter. "What will you do after that? What will you think when you're standing over the other's body? How will you explain what you did to those two girls? When they ask you, both of them, why you did it, what will you tell them?"

Carlos looked at his daughter, unable to ignore the fear and confusion in her eyes. Christa however found herself struggling to even look Clementine in the eyes, the condemnation of the small girl's angry glare filling her with shame. Turning to Carlos, Christa saw a sense of regret and uncertainty on his face that felt all to familiar to her. The two just studied each other in silence until, finally, they lowered their guns.

Walter breathed a sigh of relief as Sarah bounded down the stairs. She ran across the lodge and immediately threw her arms around her father, sobbing as he put his arm around her.

"It's okay. It's okay," repeated Carlos in a shaken voice. "We weren't going to hurt each other. We were just… arguing."

"You don't do that," cried Sarah. "You don't point guns at things you don't want to shoot. You could have killed her by accident."

"I know sweetheart, I know." Carlos moved his hand up and down Sarah's back in an attempt to soothe her. "I shouldn't have done that. It was a mistake."

Clementine crossed her arms as Christa approached her, the woman's shameful shuffle doing nothing to curb the girl's displeasure with her.

"Here." Christa offered Clementine her pistol back, who took it without so much as a word. "It's probably just better if you hold onto it instead of me."

"I was," noted a bitter Clementine.

"Yeah…" conceded Christa in a weak voice. "I should have just left it that way."

"What the hell is going on?" asked a still sleepy Pete as he approached the group. "What are y'all hollering about now?" Pete noticed his pistol in Carlos's hand. "The fuck are you doing with my gun?" Carlos offered it back, which Pete snatched in a flash. "Just who do you think…"

"Pete," interjected Walter as he stepped in between the two. "I think it'd be for the best if we sat down and discussed everything that's happened up until now." Walter turned to the others. "All of us."

"That's gonna be a helluva lot of explaining," noted Pete.

"Let's just start somewhere simple," suggested Walter. "Why are you people out here?" Bright lights beamed in through the front windows, nearly blinding the group.

"Is that..."


	24. George

Deafening shots and glass shattering rang out through the lodge. Clementine dove under the table for cover. She started crawling forward, when a section of the table in front her erupted from a shotgun blast. Clementine covered her ears as blast after blast sounded around her, petrifying her. She heard people running and shouting, followed by more gunshots. From under the table she could just barely see Pete dive for cover behind the couch.

Clementine tried moving towards him from under the table, but another volley of ear-splitting shots stopped Clem in her tracks. She watched as someone very tall and very big fired three more shots at the top of couch while approaching it, almost as if he wasn't trying to hit Pete himself. The mountain of a man swung around the couch just in time to meet Pete as he came out of cover to attack. They froze as they locked eyes, their guns waiting at the ready.

"Bill was so sure I wouldn't find you," growled the man in a deep voice. "But like I told him, Pete may not be stupid, but Pete's predictable. Doddering old fool couldn't do anything without rambling out loud about it first."

Clementine inched closer for a better look. The man had dark skin and a very long black beard that stopped just short of his bulging stomach. He wore a thick camouflage trench coat with a matching skull cap. He positively towered over Pete, his massive paws loosely gripping a long black shotgun as if it were nothing important. Looking at the terrifying man, Clementine couldn't help but assume that this was George.

"I knew you were hiding something during all those long trips up north. And when you didn't come for it I knew you lay low in the woods. Still, I was thinking you might put up more of a chase than this. You practically left us a damn trail to follow." Pete kept silent, staring at George with his hands tightly wrapped around his revolver. "Then again, you never did know when you were beat."

Pete drew his gun, but George knocked it clear out of his hand with a swift and viscous swing of the barrel of his own gun. George smashed the butt of his gun into Pete's face before planting his foot in Pete's chest, kicking the older man into a wall. As the bloodied Pete hit the floor, he looked up at something in desperation.

"Sarah grab it!" Clem spun her head around and saw a horrified Sarah trembling in the corner, Pete's gun lying at her feet. "Hurry! Get…" George kicked Pete in the chest just as Sarah reached for the wayward revolver. Just as she picked it up, George spun around and took aim. Clem watched in horror as George pulled the trigger, prompting Sarah to scream out in terror.

A loud clicked sounded from George's gun, but nothing else. He hastily pulled the trigger twice more, producing two more clicks before examining the weapon in surprise. He tossed the empty gun aside and marched toward the terrified teenager.

"Fucking shoot him Sarah!" Pete's order reached the girl, who took hold of the pistol and pointed it right at George, stopping the man in his tracks. Looking at a whimpering Sarah trying to steady her hands, Clem suddenly remembered her own gun. She turned around and saw it just behind her, not realizing she even dropped it. She reached out for it when she heard a new voice.

"Drop the gun kid!" Clementine froze in place. She looked over her shoulder and saw a man with a pistol, aiming at Sarah.

"Put her down Byron!" ordered George.

"No!" Carlos's scream spurred Clementine into action. She grabbed her pistol and spun around just in time to see the other man cocking the hammer on his gun.

"Kid! Drop the damn gun!" Clementine couldn't see this Byron person's face from under the table, so she aimed at his chest. Just as she thought she had the shot, Pete lunged at Byron with a knife, moving right into the line of fire. Clem hastily lowered her gun just as Byron moved backwards with shocking speed, training his gun on Pete instead.

"Drop the knife before I put one between your eyes!" commanded Byron.

"You ain't got it in you boy!" yelled Pete.

"Fucking try me you goddamn traitor!"

"Just cover Pete," ordered George. "You ain't gonna shoot that girl anymore than she's gonna shoot me." Clementine watched as George lurched towards Sarah, who was still was holding out Pete's revolver, her hands shaking uncontrollably. George knelt down and very calmly placed his hand on the gun, finally stopping it from shaking. Clem felt sick as she watched George pull it out of Sarah's grip with ease, and had to close her eyes as George smashed the butt of the gun into the side of Sarah's head.

"Drop it Pete." Clementine listened in horror to the sounds of a knife hitting the floor and Sarah shrieking pain. Opening her eyes she could see Pete and Sarah's legs pass by as they were forced towards the front door by George and Byron. Looking out at the other end of the table, she could see what she thought was Walter and Carlos being held by two more people. But she couldn't see any sign of Christa, dead or alive.

"What did you do to her!" Clem heard Carlos yell. As she watched everyone gather near the front door, Clem sensed an opportunity. She turned back to the stairs and edged as close to them as possible without moving out from under the table.

"She's lucky I didn't do a whole lot worse." Hearing George's guttural voice provided the last bit of motivation Clementine needed. She darted out from under the table, trying to stay low to the ground. She moved around the edge of the stairs and stopped suddenly, her heart pounding against the side of her chest.

"And I'll do worse still if either of you open your damn mouth again." Clementine started moving up the stairs as quietly as possible, desperate to get away somehow. Just as she reached the top, she felt a powerful hand cover her mouth while another grabbed her shoulder.

"It's me." The hands released her and Clem spun around to find Christa. She instinctively wrapped her arms around the woman, who did likewise. "Thank god you're alive," whispered Christa as she squeezed Clem tightly.

"What do we do?" whispered Clementine.

"I don't know," confessed Christa.

"I've still got my gun," informed Clementine. "Do you think you could shoot them from up here?"

"How many are there?"

"I think four, at least."

"I don't like those odds, and that's assuming there's not more of them." Christa looked at the gun in Clem's hand. "But we don't have a lot of options." Clem handed the gun to Christa.

"If you try to shoot them, shoot the big man first," instructed a frightened Clem.

"Which one is he?" whispered Christa.

"You'll know him when you see him." The pair crept to the edge of the waist high wall that bordered the overlook as quietly as they could.

"What do you people want from us?" asked a horrified Walter.

"Everything," answered a distraught Pete. "They want it all. Including us."

"Where's that spineless nephew of yours?" bellowed George.

"Dead," answered Pete. "Lost him to the lurkers on the second night."

"Like fuck," scoffed George. "He's around."

"I think I saw a woman when we came in too," added Byron.

"And the man you and Consuelo let slip by makes three," counted George. "All though he's probably in no shape to do anything."

"What man?" asked a distressed Walter "What did you do to him?" Looking over the edge of the wall Clementine and Christa saw most everyone they knew, tucked into a corner, on their knees, with their hands tied behind their back, guarded by George and small gray haired lady dressed in black.

"Maude, hold back with me while Byron and Tom finish searching the place." ordered George as he examined Pete's gun. "I'm gonna wanna talk to rest of our guests." Christa quite easily identified 'the big man' and took aim at George.

"Up top!" A gunshot struck the bannister right next to where Clem was standing. She and Christa ducked behind the wall for cover. "Show us your hands! Right now!" Christa eyed the window and quickly moved over to it. She unlocked and pulled it open as fast as she could.

"Fucking sick of windows that only open halfway," said Christa to Clem. "You could make it."

"But what do I do?"

"Sounds like Matthew and Nick are still out there. Try and find them."

"What if I don't find them?"

"Then… just keep going."

"What about you?" Clem felt a horrible sense of dread in her stomach as she heard people marching up the stairs.

"Hurry," insisted a tearful Christa. Clem moved onto the window sill, but couldn't stop herself from looking back. "Just go Clem." Clem turned away and forced herself off the window sill. She fell through the air and landed on her feet, but the force of the fall caused her to fall forward onto the dirt. As she stood up she heard something hit the ground next to her.

Clem saw her gun lying on the ground next to her. Looking up she saw the window was closed now and could even hear muffled voices from inside the lodge. Clem couldn't stop herself from thinking about what was happening to Christa, but she reasoned the lack of gunshots was a good sign.

Clementine picked up her gun and started sneaking around the side of the lodge. She moved to the nearest corner, tacking great care to duck under the windows. Reaching the end of the wall, Clem slowly peeked around the corner. She didn't see anyone, but Clem did see the dirt road that ran next to the lodge, which would hopefully take her to Nick or Matthew.

"Whatcha looking at?" Clem looked over her shoulder to find a thin woman with dark hair, a wicked smile and a lot of odd piercings standing over her. "Ain't it past your bedtime?"

Clem's first instinct was to run, but the woman immediately wrapped her arm around Clem's neck, securing her in a head lock. Clem tried to aim her gun, but the woman grabbed hold of it as Clem moved her hand. "Now what do you think you're doing with this?" As the woman tried to wrestle the gun away, Clem noticed her attacker had actually wrapped her thumb around the barrel. "You're gonna hurt yourself with that. Didn't anyone…"

Clem pulled the trigger. What followed was a gunshot and lot of high pitched shrieking intermixed with a long string of profanities. Turning around, Clementine found herself stunned by the surreal sight of the woman scooping her bloody thumb off the dirt with the same hand it was previously attached to.

"You cock sucking little whore!" The woman dropped her thumb and removed a small shotgun from her back. Clem dove past the side of the building just in time to hear a chunk of the wall explode behind her. Clementine immediately jumped to her feet and started sprinting for the road. Just as she reached the edge of the building, Clem watched as a balding man in gray came around the corner.

"Hey!" Another blast sent bits of wooden shrapnel flying out of the wall directly in front of Clementine. The man ducked back behind the building while Clem started sprinting towards the woods.

"You trying to kill me!" yelled a man's voice.

"Get that fucking bitch so I can shove this thing right up her scrawny ass!" Clem weaved past tress, stumbled over roots, nearly tripped over rocks and all the while desperately trying to navigate the dark woods. Her legs ached, her heart was beating out of her chest and her lungs were desperate for air, but Clem kept running as fast as she could. She thought she'd never stop, then something grabbed her.

Clementine fell face first onto the hard dirt, her gun bouncing out of her hand. Still reeling from the painful spill, Clementine tried crawling after her gun, only for something to grab her ankles. Twisting in place, Clem could see the man in gray was dragging by her her feet.

Clem tried digging her fingers into the dirt, but it did nothing to slow her attacker down. Clem latched onto a root, gripping the wood for dear life. A sharp pain shot through Clem's wounded arm as the man tried to pull her free, and a forceful tug ripped the wood from her grip. Clem searched for anything to hold onto and found a rock in her grip.

Clem grabbed the stone just as another forceful tug sent her back several feet. Clem started flailing about as she felt someone grab her wrist. She managed to flip over and smash the rock into the man's eye. As he reeled backwards, Clem jumped up and ran towards her gun. She only made it a few feet before something shoved her head into the side of a tree.

Clementine collapsed onto the ground. Her head was aching and she had trouble seeing clearly. She pulled herself to her knees, only to receive a hard blow to her stomach. Clementine rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach, gasping for air. A forceful shove against her shoulder rolled Clementine onto her back. Before she could even see what was happening, something begin bearing down on her throat.

Looking up, Clem could see the man in gray, stepping on her neck. Clementine tried pushing his foot off, but she couldn't. She started clawing at the man's shoe in desperation, struggling to do anything. The force on her throat made it impossible to breath, and soon the image of the man in gray begin to dim as Clem felt the strength draining out of her body. She opened her mouth to beg him to stop, but couldn't make a sound. Clem's eye begin to well up as everything went to black.

"What now you little retard?"


	25. Death in the Family

Clementine felt as if she had been buried. Everything was dark, she couldn't move her arms or legs because something was pinning them to the ground, and she couldn't breath because something was smothering her. She tried screaming, but whatever was on top of her was muffling the noise she was making. Panic racked her mind as Clem felt trapped, unable to do anything.

Without warning, the darkness lifted, revealing a blurry night sky. Clementine started gasping for air as she felt whatever was crushing her disappear suddenly. She started stretching her arms, then her legs, feeling a sense of relief as she could move again. Slowly she sat up, still feeling light headed, as if she was in a dream almost. As she looked up she saw a blurry figure standing over her.

Clem panicked. She spun around and started crawling towards her gun as the person started shouting something to her she couldn't understand. She grabbed hold of the pistol, but immediately another pair of hands started prying it from her grip.

"No! No! No!" chanted a disoriented Clementine as she desperately tried to hold onto the gun. Despite her bests efforts, the gun was ripped from her hands. Clem fell onto her back and threw her arms in front of face in a desperate attempt to protect herself. "Please don't kill me!" begged a hysterical Clementine.

"Snap out of it." Clem recognized that voice. She moved her arms and saw someone familiar standing over her. "It's just me, okay?"

"Nick?" Clementine looked up at young man. He had her gun his hand and a worried look on his face. "What… What happened?" asked Clementine, utterly confused.

"I shot the guy attacking you." Clem turned her head and saw the lifeless body of the man in gray, now with a significant portion of his forehead missing. "He fell right on top of you. So I pulled him off," explained Nick. "What was he doing to you?"

"I… I was going to die," muttered a shell shocked Clementine. "He was killing me." This revelation seemed to disturb Nick almost as much as Clementine herself.

"Jesus Christ," Nick muttered to himself as he tucked Clem's pistol into his waistband. "Are you okay?"

"I… I guess so," answered Clem. "I just…"

"Greg, come back," cackled a familiar voice from the direction of the man in gray. Looking at his corpse, Clem noticed the radio on his hip. "Greg, we heard a shot. You get that damn girl Consuelo won't shut the fuck up about?"

"Oh fuck, it is George," realized a terrified Nick. "What happened?"

"They've got everyone tied up, at the lodge. Except Matthew," reported Clem.

"How many?"

"There were four at the lodge. And outside was this guy, and some woman."

"Shit, that means there's at least five left," muttered Nick.

"What do we do?" Nick didn't answer, his face almost blank.

"Greg! Pick up you piece of shit!"

"We… We gotta do something," said Nick, his voice shaking. "They're gonna come looking for us, but, maybe I can get a jump on them. If we go back now, maybe I can get them from a distance. It's dark, and they wouldn't be able to see me too well."

"They turned on some big light when they came in," said Clem.

"Probably the headlights from the truck they came in," explained Nick. "That'll make it easier for me to spot them. If they don't see us, then maybe I got a chance. You okay to walk?"

"Yeah, I can walk," answered Clem as she stood up.

"Keep your eyes open." The pair headed back towards the lodge, slowly negotiating back through the woods, afraid if they moved too quickly they give themselves away. As the lodge came into sight, Nick held up his hand indicating Clem to halt.

"Okay, do you think you could be my spotter?" whispered Nick.

"Spotter?" asked Clem.

"Just, keep a lookout. Okay?" clarified Nick. "I can't see much when I'm looking through the scope, so you need to watch my back. If you see something coming, you need to tell me." Nick handed Clementine his binoculars. "And if you see any of them, tell me where. You can handle that, right?"

"Yeah, I think so." Nick took little comfort from that answer.

"All right, let's do this." The pair marched forward, stopping near a large tree at the edge of the forest. Looking out Clem could see a large box truck parked outside the front door of the lodge, its headlights illuminating the parts of the interior Clem could see through the windows.

"Okay, stay alert," instructed Nick in a quiet voice. "Gunshots have been drawing out lurkers." Clem looked through the binoculars at the lodge. She looked at the big windows, searching for anyone.

"You sure they're in there?" asked Nick as he looked through his scope.

"Maybe they left?"

"Not for good. No way they'd leave a truck behind."

"Last I saw, they had everyone in the corner, near the front door."

"All right. Maybe we can..." Clem watched as someone stumbled by one of the windows. "Pete!"

"You sure?" asked Clem.

"Yeah. Maybe he got loose. Or…" Clem watched as George moved in front of the window. "This is it! If I can get George." George hoisted Pete off the ground by his collar and slammed him against the window.

"Shit, Pete's blocking the shot."

"He knows we're here," concluded Clem.

"No. The fucker's torturing him." Clem watched as George started beating Pete with his own pistol.

"Why he's doing that?" asked Clem.

"Like he needs a reason." Nick knelt down and steadied his aim. "But I've got the shot, soon as he drops Pete. Just keep a look out." Clem lowered the binoculars and surveyed her surroundings. She didn't see anything in front of the lodge, or through any of the windows. Looking back into the forest though she could hear something off in the distance. Using the binoculars she could see someone in the distance approaching.

"I think someone is coming." Clem watched closely and saw whoever it was seemed to be shuffling around in a very familiar fashion. "It's a walker."

"How far?" asked Nick without looking up.

"I don't know. Kinda far, I guess," answered Clem.

"I'll get it in a second," stated Nick. "If he hears a shot now, George will know to keep away from the windows." Clementine watched as the walker drew gradually closer, eventually setting the binoculars down because it was easier to see it without them.

"Nick, it's coming right for us," whispered Clementine.

"Just give me a few more seconds," demanded Nick, his voice dripping with anxiety. "George is gonna let up any second. And then, he's dead." Clem saw sweat rolling down Nick's face. Looking back to the walker, she saw it was probably less than twenty feet away now, and getting closer. Clementine noticed her gun sticking out of Nick's waistband. She was about to grab it, when she spotted Nick's knife.

Considering what Nick said about a gunshot tipping off George, Clem carefully removed Nick's knife without disturbing him and moved towards the walker. It was on the short side, so Clem figured she could get it in the eye. She gripped the knife with both hands, ready to strike as the walker loomed over her. Remembering what Pete said about being faster, Clem lurched forward and thrust the blade at the walker's head.

The blade pierced the walker's cheek at an odd angle, missing most of the skull. Clem hastily tried to pull the knife out and instead pulled the whole walker down, pinning herself to the ground on her back. She tried pushing the walker off with knife but it sank in up to the hilt. Clementine screamed in terror as the horrid corpse started snapping it's jaw inches from her face, jerking the hilt of the knife about despite the girl's best attempts to hold it still.

A gunshot ripped through the side of the walker's head, allowing Clem to escape from under it. She scurried back to her feet to find Nick holding her pistol. He quickly tossed it aside, grabbed his rifle and fired.

"Shit!" Nick cocked the rifle while Clem grabbed the binoculars. "He heard that shot. If you weren't…" Clementine watched as Pete lunged at a wounded George. He wrested the gun out of George's hand and took aim. A shot sounded and blood spattered all over the window, but not in the direction Pete was aiming the gun.

"What happened? Did Pete just…" The sound of Nick firing again nearly deafened Clem. It was immediately followed by another shot in quick succession. "What are you doing!" shouted Clementine.

"That son of a bitch bastard!" rambled a frenzied Nick. "I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him!" Clementine flinched as Nick fired off another shot.

"Stop it!" ordered Clem.

"I've got to stop him. I…" Nick took aim at the front of the lodge as something emerged from inside. "Come on asshole. Give me an opening." Clementine looked through the binoculars and saw as Walter was being led out of the building at gun point by Byron. He took great care to stay hidden behind Walter, using the man as a human shield.

"Come on you fat fuck!" taunted Nick. "There ain't anyone big enough to cover your giant ass!" Carlos was next, held hostage by a man in red Clem didn't recognize. Then Sarah, held by the short older woman George called Maude. All three pairs were heading towards the truck. "Come on!" Clementine watched in horror as she saw George emerge next, using Christa as a shield. "Bout fucking time." Nick cocked his rifle.

"No!" yelled Clementine. "They'll kill her! You'll get everyone killed!"

"I'll get George killed. That's what I'm going to do." Clementine dropped the binoculars and grabbed the barrel of the rifle.

"Let go god dammit!" ordered Nick as he tried to pull the rifle out of Clem's grip.

"You've got to stop!" screamed Clementine. "They'll kill everyone else if you don't!"

"They'll already killed the only person I care about." A near hysterical Nick pulled the rifle free from Clem's grip and took aim. Clementine hit the dirt and found her pistol laying right in front of her.

"Stop it!" ordered Clementine in a shaky voice as she grabbed her gun.

"Make me!" retorted Nick.

"I'll shoot you!" asserted Clem as she took aim at Nick. "I swear I will!"

"Go right ahead." Clementine couldn't tell if Nick didn't believe her or he actually wanted to die. She watched in despair as he took aim at George and Christa. Clementine put her finger on the trigger, but she couldn't force herself to pull it. Instead she looked out as everyone was being corralled towards the truck.

"Don't shoot!" yelled Clementine at the top of her lungs as she ran out from cover and right towards the lodge. "Don't shoot! We give up! Just don't shoot!" Clem watched as everyone froze as Clementine approached. "Don't shoot!" repeated Clem as she tossed her gun towards the lodge.

"I heard a rifle before!" yelled Byron. "Where is it?"

"Where's Nick?" bellowed George as he jabbed his gun's barrel into Christa's forehead.

"He's just up there!" answered Clementine.

"This is a trap, it's gotta be!" yelled the man holding Carlos. Clementine watched as everyone took their guns off their hostages and aimed at her instead. Clementine stood there, paralyzed by fear as she saw everyone prepared to kill her.

"She's just a distraction." George cocked his gun.

"No!" yelled Clementine. "Please don't! Just…"

"Don't shoot!" Clementine turned to see Nick heading in her direction, holding his rifle over his head. "Don't shoot," repeated Nick as he tossed the gun aside. "I give up." Nick dropped to his knees right beside Clementine, his hands on his head.

"Consuelo," called George. "Tie these fuckers up." Clementine watched as a familiar woman approached. She had a small shotgun and a bloody rag on her right hand where her thumb should be. Looking up at her face, Clementine saw the vicious anger bubbling over in the woman's eyes, just before seeing the butt of that shotgun in her face.


	26. Helpless

Clem opened her eyes, and saw only darkness. She could hear an engine running and the ground seemed to be shaking under her, leading Clem to believe she was in the back of the truck she saw earlier.

Sitting up, Clem discovered her hands were tightly bound behind her back. Her wrists ached from the ties, her stomach was incredibly sore from the kick, and her whole head hurt, especially her nose, which she had trouble breathing through. Trying to stand up, a major bump shook the truck, sending Clem painfully face first into the hard floor. Clementine sobbed to herself, trying to endure the pain.

"Clementine?" called a familiar voice.

"Christa?"

"Clementine!"

"Christa!" Clem looked around in desperation, but the entire area was pitch black. "Where are you?"

"Just follow my voice." Clementine started moving forward on her knees. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," admitted Clementine, trying to locate Christa in the darkness. "I think so."

"Just come to me sweetie." Clem could hear Christa dead ahead. She kept moving along on her knees until one of them banged into something. Clem fell forward, but only slightly, her head landing on something fairly soft.

"Clem, is that you?"

"Yeah. It's me," confirmed Clem, relieved to hear Christa so close, even if she couldn't see her.

"Try to get behind me sweetie." Clem tried inching around where she thought Christa was, feeling along with her knees as she moved. "See if you can reach my hands with yours." Clem started feeling around with her fingertips, touching what she was pretty sure was Christa's thigh.

"You can't untie those," said a despondent Carlos from the other side of the truck. "There plastic zip ties. You have to cut them off."

"I'm not trying to get them off," answered a desperate Christa.

"Then what am I doing?" Clementine suddenly felt Christa's hands, which quickly grasped her own.

"I just want you to know I'm right here sweetie." Clementine breathed a little easier upon feeling the warmth from Christa's touch, and even felt a small bit of comfort from Christa wrapping her fingers around the girl's small hands. Clementine responded in kind by grasping Christa's hands as firmly as she could.

"I'm right here Clem," assured Christa as calmly as she could.

"I'm glad you are," confessed Clementine.


	27. In Harm's Way

Clem listened closely as the truck slowed to a stop. She could hear a couple of distant voices from outside and some sort of loud metal creaking. The truck started moving forward but then stopped suddenly. More voices sounded from outside as well as footsteps, leading Clem to believe the vehicle was being surrounded. A bright light started shinning through the cracks in the truck door, giving Clem her first glimpse of the surrounding area.

It was still dark, but she could see a pair of people right across from her, which may have been Sarah and Carlos. There were also stacks of supplies piled up all around the vehicle, as well as a couple of figures in the very back. Looking at one of the boxes illuminated by the sliver of light, Clem recognized a familiar looking tin labeled 'powdered milk'.

Clem tightened her grip on Christa's hands as she heard a loud rattling noise from the door. There was a final loud clank before the door rolled up, flooding the area with light. Clementine found herself blinded at first, but as her eyes adjusted she could see a pair of floodlights aimed at the truck, and a row of people with guns standing just outside.

"All right. The woman and the girl first." Clementine tried to see who was speaking, but the lights made it hard to make out their faces.

"You two deaf? Get over here!" called an angry woman.

"Just do what they say Clem," cautioned Christa as calmly as she could. Clementine struggled to stand without the use of her hands, then slowly approached the edge of the truck. No sooner had she reached the door than a set of powerful hands grabbed her from under the armpits. She was quickly set on the ground. Looking over she saw a pair of men hoist Christa off the truck in a similar manner. Clem turn to Christa and was relieved to see she looked unharmed. But upon making eye contact with Christa, she appeared shocked.

"Dear god," said Christa right at Clem.

"What?"

"Move forward," interrupted a fairly athletic looking man in a red shirt. "Both of you." Clem nervously took a few steps forward then stopped to see the same vicious woman from earlier, Consuelo, standing in front of her. Clem was surprised to watch the woman's hands go right for her armpits. Consuelo's bandaged wound smeared flecks of blood on Clem's clothes as she moved down the the girl's arms.

Clementine felt her skin crawl as Consuelo started frisking her sides. The woman's hands sliding down Clem's waist to her thighs, then her shins and finally her ankles, forcefully squeezing the girl each time to the point of being painful. Clem felt a chill shoot up her spine as Consuelo briefly grabbed Clem between her legs before moving behind her and reaching into her pant's back pockets.

"Open your mouth!" Clem was too scared to ask why and simply did as she told. Conseulo grabbed a flash light and shined it right in Clem's face. She felt the woman's fingers yanking at her jaw briefly before releasing her. Consuelo then pulled off Clem's hat, quickly checked inside of it, then tossed it onto the pavement.

"Wait, my hat…ah!" Counseulo slapped Clem with such force it knocked the small girl face first into the pavement. Fearing she'd be beaten further, Clem bit her lip in a desperate attempt to not cry out from the sting of the slap or painful throbbing from hitting her head on the hard ground.

"What the hell are you doing!" Clem heard Christa yell out.

"Tom, you want to shut that mouthy bitch up?" Clem felt someone grab her by the wrists and drag her across the pavement.

"You're the one riling her up," commented a man, presumably Tom.

"I'm keeping people in line, you limp dick faggot!" Clem felt herself being tossed into the side of a metal wall.

"Why don't you just sit down before I come over and shove my foot up your ass?" Clem looked up to see a Christa being pushed towards the same wall she was lying by. "Better yet, why not help the others clean up those lurkers that followed the truck in?"

"Have the cripple do everything," grumbled Conseulo. "Lazy nigger."

"Are you okay?" whispered Christa.

"No," whimpered Clementine as she stood up.

"Few more, coming in." Looking over, Clem saw Conseulo join three other people gathered by a massive open gate. They were attacking a small pack of walkers as they stumbled in. Two of them were aiming at the legs with machetes, causing the walkers to fall onto their sides, while Consuelo and the other person stabbed them in the head with a long stick with a sharp point at the end. Clem found it odd they moved so casually in this task, easily downing the walkers with little effort.

"That's the last of them for now," called a man. "Close it up, we'll get any stragglers after sunrise." Clem watched as two solid steel walls were rolled into place from opposite directions to close the gap. The walls had logos on them that were partially cut off at the edges, as if they had been built from something else. The two walls collided to make a loud metal clang.

The men then moved to some large metal girders attached to the fence by brackets welded right onto the metal. They each worked to slide the girders across the gate into another set of brackets on the other half, barricading it. The men slid a total of four girders across the gate, then moved away from it.

"Carlos and your daughter," called the man in red, which Clem guessed was Tom. "You're next. Outside." Clem watched as Carlos and Sarah were lifted out of the truck. "Move forward." Sarah yelped as Tom started moving his hands down her side.

"Just stay still sweetheart," said Carlos in a shaken voice as a different man searched him. "It'll be over soon."

"What's this?" Tom pulled a photo from Sarah's jacket, then tossed it aside. "Open your mouthes." Clem watched as the pair had flashlights shined in their faces. "Both of you over there with them." Carlos and Sarah shuffled to the where Christa and Clem were standing. Looking at a trembling Sarah, Clem found herself sickened by the sight of blood trailing all the way down the older girl's face and pooling onto her shoulder. Clem watched as Sarah turned towards her and gasped.

"What?" asked a frightened Clem.

"Nick and the new guy, now." Clem watched as Nick and Walter emerged from the truck and went through the same motions of being frisked and searched. "All right, over there with…"

"Hold up." Clementine trembled in fear as she saw George come around the side of the truck. "We're two men short because of this piece of shit." Nick cowered as George loomed over him.

"Two?" asked Tom. "We lost Greg, but…"

"We lost Pete too. All because he wouldn't give himself up sooner." George glared at Nick. "So seeing as we've got a lot to unload, why not go head and get a jump on him doing their share of the work?"

"A'ight, soon as the sun comes up we'll…"

"Right now," insisted George.

"We're burning batteries as it is. He can…"

"I said right now!" George stared at Tom, who seemed irritated by this order.

"Whatever," answered an annoyed Tom as he reached for his radio. "Hector, you up?"

"Since George said you were bringing people back," answered the radio. "What's up?"

"Get a few lights on the main building going, we've got a truck to off-load."

"Now? It'll be sunrise in…"

"Yes now." Tom put his radio down and turned to Walter. "Stand over there with the others. Nick, back in the truck." Nick reluctantly turned back towards the vehicle while Walter slowly shuffled towards the rest of the group. Tom helped Nick inside the back and then shut the loading door.

"I'll park the truck and put him to work," said George. "You can sort through the others." Turning back to the truck, Clem was shocked to see most of George's left ear was gone and the entire side of his head was covered in blood.

"Wait, where's Matthew?" asked a panicked Walter as the truck's engine hummed to life. "What happened? What did you do to him!" yelled Walter as someone pulled open a second gate that led further inside.

"Hey!" Tom aimed a gun at Walter. "Settle down! I won't ask you again."

"There was another man. What happened to him?" repeated Walter in a quieter but no less panicked voice as the truck pulled away.

"Pete's dead."

"Not him, another man," explained Walter.

"I didn't see anyone else," shrugged Tom.

"At the lodge, that man, George, said something about another person. Where…"

"I'm ain't here to answer your damn questions! So shut up and sit down already." Walter looked at the gun being aimed at him and inched back towards the rest of the group. "A'ight guys, kill the big lights." The floodlights went out and numerous guards turned on flashlights.

"Seeing as we have our god damn doctor back, any chance I get some fucking help tonight?" groused Consuleo as she approached Tom.  
>"Hang on." Tom reached for his radio. "Hector, can you unlock our hospital? We got wounded, as well as a doctor again."<p>

"Yeah, I'll be right there," answered Hector.

"A'ight. I'll take Carlos to get Consuleo's hand looked at. Maude, put his daughter in the pen. Byron, take the new people and their things to Bill for the meet and greet. Rest of you close the inner gate, barricade it, block it, then bounce." A short older woman in black grabbed Sarah by the wrists.

"Wait, no! Daddy!" cried Sarah as she was pulled away from her father.

"I'll be back soon sweetheart," promised Carlos in a desperate voice as he was pulled in another direction by Tom. "Just be good. I'll be right back."

"You three, with me." Clem looked at what she assumed was Byron. He was a young man, younger than Nick even, with short blonde hair, a flashlight pinned to his vest, a pistol in one hand and Clem's backpack in the other. "Start walking." Byron gestured with his gun and Clem, Christa and Walter all moved further into the compound.

As they walked, Clem could hear the gates closing behind her, the loud metal clang of them shutting giving the terrified girl a sick feeling in her already sore stomach. The clank was followed by a metal scrapping sound as they barricaded the gate. And the scrapping was followed by the sound of another truck starting. Looking over her shoulder, Clem watched as someone parked a different truck right beside the gate, blocking her view of what may be the only way out of this place.

"What do you people want from us?" asked Christa.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Walter.

"Save your questions for Bill," groused a disinterested Byron. "I just work here." Clem could see a large warehouse in the distance looming over a much smaller office building just ahead. As they neared the office building, Clem could read a sign that said 'Shaffer's Shipping' next to the front door. As they reached the building, a curly haired man looking only to be a few years older than Byron came out the door. He stopped and turned to Byron.

"New people for the meet and greet," reported Byron to the man.

"Right, of course." The other man seemed tired. He briefly looked at Clementine, and seemed bothered by what he saw, but then left without another word.

Byron pulled open the front door, allowing the trio to enter. The interior was lit with a pair of small electric lanterns, revealing a fairly ordinary reception area. "Take the hall on the left all the way to the end." Clem felt her heart pounding as they walked down the dark hallway. "Stop." Byron moved to the last door in the hall and knocked twice. As Byron took a step back, his flashlight illuminated the door, revealing a name plate that read 'William Carver - Manager'.

"Come on in."


	28. Meet the New Boss

Byron opened the door, revealing a middle-aged dark haired man with a thick mustache and a fur lined jacket. He sat behind a large wooden desk in a lavish looking leather office chair and had an odd grin on his face that made Clementine feel uneasy.

"Howdy y'all. I'm William Carver. But you can call me Bill," he introduced. "Byron, why don't you grab another chair so our guests can sit down?" The man had a coarse voice, but his tone sounded very inviting. The office's decor was strange. A variety of guns adorned much of the walls, a kerosene lamp hung from the ceiling, a pair of cast iron lion statues bookended the desk, and behind Bill was a push board with over a dozen radios hanging from it.

"Here." Byron placed a folding chair between the two seats in front of the desk, then clicked off his flashlight. "Sit."

"Actually, Byron, why don't you go head and cut off their ties? Make things a little more comfortable?"

"You sure about that?"

"They look harmless enough."

"Actually Consuelo says the girl shot her thumb off," informed Byron.

"Really now?" Bill turned towards Clementine. "Is that so? You shoot off my girl's thumb?" Clem found it odd Bill didn't sound mad but actually amused by this revelation.

"When she grabbed my gun, she put her thumb over the end of it," informed Clem. "So…"

"Well, she won't be doing that again, right Byron?" asked Bill with a smile.

"If she did she wouldn't have any thumbs left to do it a third time," shrugged a weary Byron.

"Good one." Bill chuckled while Byron merely stood there with an bored look on his face. "Still, I doubt the girl here is going to cause any trouble. Go head and cut em' loose."

"Hold still." Clem felt Byron grab her hands. She heard a snipping noise and suddenly felt the restraints fall off. As Byron released Christa and Walter, Clem rubbed her wrists. There were thick red lines running across them where the ties were cutting into her skin.

"Now why don't you sit down so we can all get acquainted?" Clem sat down between Christa and Walter. Looking at Bill's desk Clem noticed more oddities. She could see an antique globe, a small American flag statuette, several hundred dollar bills scattered about, what looked like an old calendar with the words 'Quote A Day' written on it, a rather ornate looking bottle of whiskey and a pair of shot glasses. "Can't interest any of you in a drink, can I?"

"I don't want a drink," answered a crestfallen Walter.

"And I can't," informed Christa.

"What about you little lady?" Bill asked Clem as he poured a shot. "You feeling thirsty?" Clem looked at the glass.

"Um…no thanks," answered Clem.

"Byron?" Byron shook his head. "Well then, more for me then." Bill downed the shot of whiskey. "So, y'all got names I presume?"

"I'm… Walter DeWitt."

"Christa, and she's Clementine."

"Nice to meet you," smiled Bill. "Byron, what did our newest guests bring with them?"

"The woman didn't have anything on her when we found her. The man only had a wallet, which had some photos in it." Byron placed Walter's wallet on the desk, which Bill examined. "The girl threw out a Glock seventeen when she surrendered. It had ten bullets left in it." Byron placed Clem's gun and its magazine on the desk. "She also had a backpack, which contained two drawings, a radio with no batteries, a note, and two paperback books." Byron placed the backpack on the desk.

"Well now, you an artist?" asked Bill as he pulled out the drawings. "This your daddy?" Bill held up Clem's drawing of Lee digging a grave.

"He's dead," answered a saddened Clementine.

"Well, that's a shame."

"Oh, almost forgot." Byron removed something from his vest. "The girl also had this on." Clementine was surprised to see Byron place her hat on the desk.

"Now that thing looks like it's seen better days. Then again, so does its owner." Christa scowled as Bill pulled out another piece of paper from Clem's backpack. "Sincerely, Sarah. Sounds like you met Carlos's elusive daughter."

"What did you do to her?" asked a concerned Clementine.

"She's just in the pen, probably sleeping by now. You'll see her again once we're done here." Bill set the note down. "I'm guessing you two got some questions as well."

"Why did your people attack me?" asked a shaken Walter.

"I'm guessing that was your building we found our former residents in?" asked Bill.

"In a sense," answered Walter. "It's been my home since shortly after this started."

"Well you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." explained an apologetic Bill. "Now you may not have realized it, but those people you were with are some very dangerous individuals."

"I figured that out when one of them killed the father of my child," recounted Christa in a bitter tone. "And your doctor left Clementine to bleed to death in the cold."

"Then you can see why it was so important for us to find them then," said Bill. "You're lucky we came by when we did."

"Lucky?" asked Christa. "The rest of your people were shooting at us!"

"Unlike the supposed dangerous ones," added Walter. "Who were civil to me."

"I'm sure they were. It would make it easier for them to attack you, like it sounds like they did to this poor woman and her girl." Bill gestured to Christa and Clem. "As for the shooting, my crew uses a little shock and awe when they're working. Scare tactics to keep people from shooting back. If they had wanted to kill you, they had done it, but they didn't. That's not how we operate."

"Is beating nine year old girls part of how you operate?" snapped Christa.

"Well hold on now, we talking about the same little girl who maimed one of mine?" asked Bill.

"She was trying to protect herself," retorted Christa. "Your woman did this to her after Clem had given herself up."

"That's real unfortunate," consoled Bill. "Our crew tends to be a rough sort. Can't be helped really. The things they've seen would push anyone a bit over the edge, and once that happens it's hard to say what they'll do. Bet your girl didn't think she'd ever dismember someone."

"I wasn't trying to," said Clem. "It's…"

"Now now, take it easy," said Bill in a calm voice. "We got a simple rule around here that helps keep things civil. What happens out there, stays out there."

"Does that include robbing me?" asked Walter.

"Well like I said, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Since we had to bring you along, we went ahead and brought along what you had with you, which from what I was told, was quite a bit. Sounds like you hoarded yourself quite the stash."

"I wasn't hoarding anything," retorted Walter. "I offered food to anyone who asked for it."

"That's real good of you," complimented Bill. "I know how you feel. I got a lot hungry people myself. And we get more all the time. You'll be happy to know that what you had is going to do a lot of people a lot of good."

"But why did you bring us here?" asked Christa. "What do you want from us?"

"It's not about what I want, it's just a matter of concern. You see, I got a lot of people here I'm responsible for, and if you hadn't noticed, there are a lot of dangerous sorts out there these days."

"In my experience, most people are just looking for some help in these trying times," retorted Walter. "And are grateful to find it."

"I'm glad to hear that, but my people haven't been so fortunate," said Bill in a somber tone. "We've had attacks on our home, crews being robbed or worse while out salvaging, not to mention the dead roaming about." Bill turned to Christa and Clem.

"I get the feeling you two know what I'm talking about. I bet you've seen some things between the pair of ya. You know you got to be real careful around people these days. Real careful. That's why my crew always brings back anyone they find for me to meet. So I can be sure they're not the dangerous type who'd hurt anyone."

"And if we're not, you'd let us go?" asked a dubious Walter.

"If that's what you want," shrugged Bill. "But I wouldn't be so hasty. I think you'll find we got a lot to offer honest hard working people, not least of which is safety. Can't imagine these two being eager to go back out there. I have a hard time seeing myself surviving out in the wilds, let along a woman with a girl and a baby." Christa and Clem exchanged concerned glances.

"You know, one of my advisors has been talking to me a lot lately about what to do when some of our residents decide to have children of their own. Maybe you and him could have a talk about what you would need if you decide to stay here," suggested Bill.

"Well I for one am not staying," announced Walter. "Someone I love is still out there, and I have to try and find him."

"I'm guessing he's the one in the photos?" surmised Bill.

"Yes," answered Walter. "His name is Matthew, and I heard one of your people mention someone I think was him back when they attacked us."

"Well then, I'll ask my people if they saw him," assured Bill. "In the mean time, you should make yourselves at home."

"I already have a home," insisted Walter.

"Well consider yourself a guest then. You spend a little time here so we can get a feel for you three and we'll talk again, see what you want to do then. Byron." A half-asleep Byron looked up at Bill.

"Seeing as we got our resident doctor back, why don't you take the girl over to him to get her cleaned up?"

"Right," nodded Byron as he seemed to force himself to be fully awake. "Okay…"

"Can I have my stuff back?" asked Clementine as she eyed her backpack.

"Now like I said, I gotta be sure you people don't mean no harm, and even if you don't, we might need some of your things to help my own people," explained Bill. "Like that food your friend here brought us."

"Well can I just have my hat back?" pleaded Clementine as she looked at the filthy baseball cap sitting right in front of her. "It can't hurt anyone, and nobody would need it."

"It means something to you," noticed Bill. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes," answered Clementine. "My dad gave it to me."

"Well, Byron, we're not exactly hurting for hats right now, are we?" Byron shrugged. "Why don't you go head and take it? And I'm thinking you would probably want your wallet back as well." Bill slid Walter's wallet back to him while Clem eagerly took her hat and put it on her head. "What do you say little lady?"

"Um… thank you?"

"You're welcome."

"How generous for you to let us keep some our possessions," said Walter in a biting tone.

"What can I say, I'm a generous guy," smiled Bill. "Speaking of which, Byron, go take the girl here over to Carlos for a check-up and then take them all to the pen for some shut eye."

"The pen?" asked a worried Christa.

"Little holding area until we find you a more permanent place here," explained Bill. "Don't fret, it's really more of a formality. I'm sure once you get your bearings we'll find something for you good people. Just ask Byron here. He only spent a couple of days in there."

"Come on you three." Byron gestured to everyone to stand up.

"Be sure to take the scenic route once you're done with Carlos," Bill told Byron.

"Can do." Byron switched on his flashlight and gestured to the door.

"Don't be a stranger now," said Bill as the trio left the office.

"Hang a right and keep going," instructed Byron as they stepped back outside. Examining her surroundings, Clementine couldn't help but look at the massive fence that bordered the area. It seemed to be made from steel shipping containers lined up against the perimeter of the yard, with large strips of metal bolting them together at the seams and a chain-link fence lined with razor wire running atop the containers. Looking away from the fence, Clem noticed dozens of more containers spaced out across the yard for as far as she could see.

"Over there." Byron gestured to a red container with a white cross crudely painted on the side. Leaning against it was Tom, who was smoking a cigarette. "Carlos inside?"

"Yeah, but so's Consuelo. So…"

"Cocksucking motherfucker," Consuelo swore to herself as she burst out of the container, examining her bandaged hand. "God damn little…" Consuelo spotted Clementine and immediately rushed to the girl. "You fucking little bitch!" Both Tom and Byron stepped in front of Consuelo while Christa stepped in front of Clementine.

"Give it a rest," said Byron as he held Consuelo back. "You should've known better than to put your fingers over the barrel of a gun."

"Fuck you Byron! You little bleach blonde bitch!"

"Step off!" Tom shoved Consuelo onto the pavement. "Do everyone a favor and fuck off already."

"Eat me you Uncle Tom piece of shit!" yelled Consuelo as she stood up. "Fucking cum bucket shoots off my thumb and you're pushing me around?"

"Hard to hate on someone for doing what we've all thought about at some point," scoffed Tom.

"Oh fuck you both!" screamed Consuelo as she walked past the men. "You're dead you worthless cunt!" barked Consuelo right to Clem's face as she passed the girl by. "You hear me? Fucking dead!" Clem watched as Consuelo wandered across the lot, swearing to herself.

"Why couldn't she have taken one in the head?" Tom asked Byron.

"Or the throat at least," said Byron. "Spare us having to listen to her."

"Knowing her, she'd find whole new ways to piss us off," remarked Tom.

"Anyways, Bill wanted Carlos to clean up the girl before I lock the new people up."

"A'ight. Go on." Clem and Christa moved towards the container but Tom immediately grabbed Christa's shoulder. "Hey, just the girl."

"Why?" asked Christa.

"Dems da rules. One at a time only," answered Tom.

"But I… I'm her mother," lied Christa. "Look at her. She needs her mom right now."

"Yeah. Yeah I do," said Clem, playing along. Tom looked to Byron, who just shrugged.

"Fine, whatever." Tom released Christa and the pair walked into the cramped container. There was a long wooden table hosting a wide variety of medical tools, with Carlos seated in front of them.

"What are you doing here?" asked Carlos, sounding genuinely confused.

"Your boss wants you to fix what your friends did to Clementine."


	29. Mending Fences

"None of the people here are my friends," stated Carlos in a defiant tone. "But, just sit there, and I'll treat you." Clementine took a seat in front of a bunch of various sharp tools laid out on a silver tray.

"Oh really? Now you'll help her?" asked an annoyed Christa. "Is that why you left this place? They made you occasionally help someone?" Clementine leaned in closer to the silver tray, noticing it was clean enough to to see her reflection, in even in the low light.

"I left here because I didn't want what's happened to her to happen to Sarah," explained a nervous Carlos as he moved to a pair of lockers sitting at the other end of the container. "I can't believe George struck her." Clementine pushed the tools aside and picked up the tray, angling it so she could see her face in it.

"How is it you can be so scared for your kid, and so completely unconcerned with another?" asked an annoyed Christa. "Does it not bother you at all what these people did to Clementine? What you did to her?"

Finally seeing her own reflection clearly, Clem was horrified. Blood was dripping down her face from her severely swollen nose. There was a huge red mark between her eyes where the gun had struck her. She could see the outline of Consuelo's hand where she had been slapped, and there was a cut on her forehead from where she hit the pavement.

"Sarah's such a sensitive girl that these kinds of horrors would devastate her. If hurt too deeply she… she'd never recover," explained a frightened Carlos. "She's not like your girl. She couldn't handle…" The sound of the metal tray and its tools hitting the table startled Carlos and Christa alike. Looking at Clementine they saw the young girl shaking in her seat.

"What… what are they going to do to us?" stuttered a sniveling Clementine. Christa leaned in close and put her arm around the terrified young girl.

"Well?" Christa looked to Carlos, angry and worried all at once. "What are they going to do to us?"

"They'll probably put you to work," answered Carlos.

"Doing what?" asked Christa.

"Whatever they need done."

"She's only nine, and hurt, and I'm pregnant," reminded Christa.

"That means nothing to Carver. Nothing," stated Carlos in certain tone. "Unless you have something unique to offer him, you're just another laborer doing his bidding. Don't believe that man's lies."

"And I should believe you?" asked Christa. "Considering what you've done, how do I know…"

"They were trying to kill me," recounted a shocked Clementine.

"What?" asked Christa.

"At the lodge. That woman, Consuelo, she was trying to shoot me because I shot off her thumb," explained a trembling Clementine. "And that man chased me down, and beat me up, and stepped on my neck, and I couldn't breathe…" Christa moved in closer and noticed an unsightly bruise across Clem's neck.

"Oh my god," whispered a horrified Christa.

"I don't expect you to trust me," spoke Carlos. "But listen to me when I tell you, don't believe anything William Carver says." Christa rubbed her hand across Clem's shoulders, trying to calm her.

"Okay," answered Christa in a quiet voice.

"You should lean your head back," Carlos instructed Clementine.

"So what should we expect from these people?" asked Christa as Carlos gently wiped away the blood under Clem's nose. "Are they going to do something like this to her again? Or me?"

"If you do what they tell you, they shouldn't." Carlos placed a few small pieces of cotton in Clem's nostrils to stop the bleeding.

"Shouldn't?" repeated Christa.

"Carver has no concern for anyone he considers expendable, which is nearly all of us." Carlos placed a small plastic piece over Clem's nose and taped it to her cheeks. "So if one of his crew acts out, don't expect any help from him. But if you do what they say, they have to feed you."

"And what do we have to do?" asked a worried Christa.

"You're all new, so it'll probably be simple tasks." Clem flinched as Carlos cleaned the cut on her head.

"And when we're not new anymore?" asked Christa.

"That's up to Carver." Carlos placed a bandage over Clem's cut. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My stomach," answered Clem. "It's sore from where the man kicked me."

"Let me see. Lift up your shirt." Clem looked to Christa.

"It's okay Clem." Clem lifted up the front of her shirt, revealing another bruise above her belly. "Jesus," Christa said to herself.

"Wait." Carlos removed a stethoscope from the table and put it on. He placed the end of it against Clem's chest. "Breathe in and out slowly." Clem did as she was told. As she breathed she could feel Carlos moving the stethoscope to different parts of her body. "Is it hurting to breathe at all?"

"No," answered Clem.

"Good. They probably didn't break any of your ribs then." Carlos set the stethoscope down. "Any other pain?"

"My arm, a little." Carlos unwrapped the bandage on Clem's arm.

"You've ripped one your stitches," informed Carlos.

"I did?" asked a worried Clementine. "Does that mean I have to get another one?"

"Yes." Clem sighed.

"It's just one sweetie. It won't take long." Christa grasped Clem's hand while she watched Carlos thread a small curved needle that looked a little like a fishing hook.

"Ready?" asked Carlos as he laid Clem's wounded arm flat out on the table.

"I guess." Clem closed her eyes and clenched her hand into a fist. "Ow...fuck!" cried Clem as she felt the needle pierce her skin again. She clenched her teeth as she felt the thread tugging at her injury.

"Okay, that'll do it." Clem looked over in surprise to see Carlos had already tied off the stitch. "We should probably change this bandage too. Give me a minute, I'll see if I can find a clean one." Carlos stood up and moved to the lockers again.

"Sorry I sweared," Clem said to Christa.

"It's fine Clem," assured Christa.

"Um, Christa, I wanted to ask you something."

"What's that Clem?"

"What's a cunt?" Christa seemed a little surprised to hear Clem say that.

"It's another swear word," answered Christa.

"Oh, sorry."

"You didn't know."

"I've never heard that one before."

"It's a really horrible thing to call a girl," answered Christa in a bitter tone.

"And what did she mean by saying, come bucket?"

"It's another swear, and another horrible thing to call someone."

"Really? Come is a swear?"

"The way she was saying it, yeah," answered Christa.

"And the word she called that Tom guy earlier, by the truck? Is that a swear?"

"Yes, that was a really hateful thing for her to say."

"I didn't know there were so many swears," said a surprised Clem.

"That's because there's a lot of horrible words adults should never use either," explained Christa. "If that woman says something you don't understand, just assume it's another swear, and the kind that any half-decent person would never use."

"I will." Carlos sat down next to Clem with a new bandage.

"Any other pain?" Clem flinched as Carlos started cleaning the wound on her arm.

"Um… my tooth is still loose."

"Is it bothering you?" asked Carlos as he started wrapping Clem's arm.

"Not really."

"Good, because I meant it when I said I'm not a dentist. There's not much I can do about your teeth." Carlos finished wrapping Clem's new bandage. "I… I guess that's everything." Clem stood up and headed for the door with Christa.

"Wait," called Carlos. "I don't know when they're going to let me leave, so, if you could, please, watch Sarah until I get back."

"You want me to look after your daughter?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"Christa," scolded Clem.

"Don't punish her for what I've done," begged a desperate Carlos. "She never hurt anyone. Please, she must be so scared right now. Just… just tell her I'll be with her as soon as I can." Clem looked on in surprise as Carlos seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Okay," assured Christa in a sympathetic tone. "We'll watch out for her."

"Thank you." Carlos rested his head in his hands, appearing utterly broken by his predicament. Christa and Clem slowly turned back to the entrance.

"You do know those things will kill you?" Clem heard Byron say as they stepped outside.

"Not before something else does." Tom took the cigarette out of his mouth and turned to Clem and Christa. "Whoa. Hold up. Gotta give you two your pat downs."

"What, again?" asked an annoyed Christa.

"Yeah again. You just come out the box we keep a bunch of sharp shit and drugs in," explained Tom. "Arms out." Christa sighed as she and Clem held out their arms. Clementine felt uncomfortable as Byron's hands ran down her sides, but his grip was much looser than Consuelo's and he did it much faster. Byron then pulled Clem's hat off and looked inside.

"She's good." Byron handed Clem her hat back. "New guy. Come on." Clem looked over to see Walter sitting against the cargo container, a depressed look on his face. "Hey!"

"Walter." Christa's call seemed to reach the downtrodden man as he slowly stood up.

"Come on. You can rest when we get to the pen."

"Tom." Clem turned around to see George approaching. "Carlos still in there?"

"Um, yeah," answered Tom. "Guess you want me to hang back here until he patches you up?"

"No," answered George. "You go on to bed. I'll take care of Carlos." George marched right past Tom and into the cargo container.

"Yeah, sure," Tom said to himself.

"Come on. Head for the main building," urged Byron. "I want to get some sleep." The group marched back towards the large warehouse they saw upon entering the yard. Approaching it they saw light shining from one of the loading doors. Moving past the truck parked out front, Clem looked on at awe at the pallets upon pallets of canned and dried goods.

"Holy shit," Christa said to herself as she looked around the warehouse. Past the the wide variety of foods, Clem also saw stacks of batteries, barrels full of water, barrels full of other substances, tools piled upon each other, stacks of clothes, car parts, gas containers, and boxes stacked upon boxes that Clem could only guess the contents of. Moving across the warehouse, Clem noticed an area ahead that was lit more brightly than the others.

She saw a small pop-up tent past a stack of tires. It had a pair of small electric lanterns hanging from it and a bed set next to a table covered in papers. Getting closer Clem could see a man lying on the bed and Nick standing over him.

"I got everything," said Nick in a tired voice. "What else am I suppose to do?"

"George said you're to stay here until he get's back." The person lying on the bed was a slim shorter man with thick glasses, an orange baseball hat and a cigarette in his mouth. "So that means you stay put until he gets back."

"Why though?" asked a shaken Nick. "Hector, what's he going to do?"

"That's for him to decide," answered Hector without looking up.

"Hey." Clem turned to see Byron behind her. "Keep moving." Clem started walking forward again, not even realizing she had stopped. Reaching the other end of the warehouse, Clem saw the small older woman from earlier standing guard in front of a loading door.

"Hey Maude," greeted Byron.

"It's about time," answered an irritated Maude. "What took you so long?"

"Bill wanted me to take them Carlos first." Byron stopped moving and placed his hand on his holster. "All right you three, move over into the corner." Clem watched as Maude started unlocking a pair of padlocks at the bottom of the door. She then moved to a trio of huge latches on one side of the door that were also locked. Looking closely, Clem could see that these probably weren't originally part of the door. Maude unlocked yet another three locks on the other side and finally rolled the door up.

"All right, everyone inside." The group followed the order and walked past the door. No sooner had they stepped outside did than the door slam closed behind them, which was then followed by the muffled sounds of locks being relocked.


	30. The Pen

Looking around, Clem realized they were actually outside in a area caged in with tall chain link fences that were reenforced by some kind of wire mesh material. On the other end of the area was a small gate built into the fence, and through the fence Clem could see someone sitting outside in a chair with a lantern hanging above them.

Being outside, it was fairly cold, and Clementine found herself rubbing her arms to keep warm. Looking around for anything to stave off the cool night air, Clementine saw two rows of very small beds laid out in the middle of the area, a few of which were occupied. Clem's gaze immediately went to a shaking Sarah sitting on one of the beds with her knees pulled up to her chest, and a teenage boy she didn't recognize sitting next to her.

"You know, you could really use a friend in here." The boy looked slightly older than Sarah and had long greasy dark hair and a couple of earrings, on the same ear. "That could be me." Clem watched as this boy put his arm on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah suddenly seemed to notice Clem and the others and sprung off the bed.

"Wh… wh… where's… where's my dad?" she managed to stutter.

"He's okay," assured Christa in a calming voice. "He's just helping people who were hurt. Like Clementine." Looking closely, Clem was surprised to see that Sarah was still bleeding. The small bit of blood on her shoulder had now trailed all the way down her jacket. "He said he'll be with you as soon as he can. Probably when he's done treating people."

"Da… da… daddy," Sarah mumbled to herself as she shuffled over to one of the beds. Christa turned her attention to the boy.

"What did you do to her?" asked Christa in an accusing tone.

"Nothing. I was just talking. The fuck is her problem?" mumbled the boy as he rubbed his eyes. "So, more new people? Good, maybe me and Matt will finally get a break around here."

"Who are you?" asked Christa. "What is this place?"

"I'm Mick. This is my brother Matt." Mick gestured to a shorter boy asleep in the bed next to him. "And that's Felicity." Mick pointed to a skinny woman in the bed past Matt. "And, I don't really care who you people are."

"Why is she tied to the bed?" Following Christa's question, Clem noticed Felicity's wrists and ankles had been bound to the bed posts by some kind of restraints.

"Oh, she hasn't been feeling well," mumbled Mick.

"What?" asked Christa.

"You know, in case she dies in her sleep and turns into a creep, she can't eat us," explained an uninterested Mick. "All the beds have that. Sorta like seat belts, cept, they stop you from killing other people, after you die." Mick yawned.

"Tell you what, I'll give you the grand tour. There's the ceiling." Looking up Clem was surprised to see there was some kind of overhang attached to the building that the fence was built up to. "And that's the bathroom." Mick gestured to what looked like a crude wooden closet tucked away in the corner. "Welcome to the pen. If you want anything else, figure it out yourself." Mick lied down in his bed.

"This just keeps getting better and better," Christa mumbled to herself as Walter took a seat on one of the beds.

"I… I'm sorry Christa," sobbed Clementine.

"What?" asked Christa, confused by Clem's apology.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"For what?"

"You said this would happen."

"I did?"

"That we should have left, so they wouldn't find us."

"What? Clem, this isn't…"

"You said it was a mistake to stay with the others and I didn't listen."

"Oh god," Christa grumbled to herself. "Why did I say that?"

"Because you were right."

"No. Clem…"

"You were."

"Well if I was right, it was for the wrong reasons," insisted Christa.

"What does that matter if you were right?" sobbed Clem.

"It matters because I wasn't thinking about what's best for all of us," explained Christa. "I was angry and tired of being stuck with the same people who killed Omid and hurt you and all I wanted to do was get away from them. I wasn't thinking about how it would affect us, or you, or anything. So even if I was right then, I would have just been dumb luck, not because I was looking out for us, and whatever I did next probably would have made things even worse for us. Like... what I tried to do back at the lodge. " Christa found herself tearing up as she put her arm around Clem.

"You were the one who was right Clem. I didn't know what to do for food if we left. I didn't know where to go. And us leaving then would have pissed them off, and they probably would have come after us. None of this is your fault Clem. None of it. You were the one thinking clearly and you've got nothing to apologize for." Clem looked away in shame.

"That's not true. I never should have said I wished you were dead instead of Omid. I didn't mean it but, I never should have said it."

"It's okay Clem."

"No it isn't," insisted Clem. "It was a horrible thing to say."

"Yeah, well, you probably wouldn't have said it if I hadn't treating you so horrible lately. Besides, sometimes even I wonder if it would have been better if it had been me instead of him," confessed Christa.

"Don't say that. If you had died, Omid would have been even sadder because you and the baby would be gone."

"You know, I'm ashamed to admit I really haven't been thinking about the baby lately. With everything that's happened it just hasn't been on my mind. Now that I am, I realize it could have died just from me being so reckless. It's not even born yet I'm already a horrible mother."

"No you're not." Clem looked at the guilt-ridden Christa, trying to think of what to say to her. "Omid said that me and him didn't have to worry about things getting worse as long as you were around."

"Did he?" Clem nodded. "I'm guessing he said something else when he said that though?"

"Yeah, but he still meant it," assured Clem. "And, I definitely feel better because you're here." Christa put her arms around Clem, holding the girl close, and Clem squeezed Christa as hard as she could.

"I feel better with you here too Clem." Christa released Clementine. "A lot better." Turning away from Christa, Clem couldn't help but notice Sarah trembling on one of the beds. "Think she could feel better?" asked Christa, clearly aware of the answer.

Clementine and Christa sat down on the bed across from Sarah. She had her knees up to her chest again, but she looked worse than before. Tears were running down her her cheeks from her bloodshot eyes while she struggled to breath, her entire body shaking.

"Jesus," Christa mumbled to herself as she looked at the bloody mark on Sarah's forehead. "What the hell is wrong with these people?" Christa tried to pull back Sarah's hair to get a better look, but Sarah jerked her head away in response. "It's okay. I just want to help." Sarah didn't answer.

"Sarah?" Clem inched closer when Sarah didn't answer. "Sarah?" Clem moved her hand onto one of Sarah's, carefully wrapping her fingers around it. "Can you hear me?" Sarah suddenly turned to Clementine, as if she just noticed her.

"Cl… Clementine?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah. Me and Christa want to help you." Sarah didn't say anything, but Clem felt the older girl's hand squeezing her own.

"We need something to make a bandage for that cut," said Christa.

"How bout my shirt?" suggested Clementine. "It's too big. Maybe you could tear off a little bit of it."

"Yeah, that'll work." Christa pulled at the bottom of Clem's shirt, stretching it out. She leaned in and used her teeth to rip a small hole in it. Sticking her fingers in the hole, Christa started tearing the bottom section of Clem's shirt off, leaving the girl with a slightly better fitting shirt.

"First, let me clean up some of this blood." Christa tore a smaller piece off from the fabric. "Just hold still." Christa started wiping Sarah's face.

"It'll be okay," assured Clem as she held Sarah's hand.

"All right, Clem, hold her hair back." Clem let go of Sarah's hand and pulled her hair back while Christa wrapped the cloth from Clem's shirt around the older girl's head. Sarah flinched as Christa tightly tied the bandage. "There. That should hopefully stop the bleeding."

"Th… thank you," stuttered Sarah.

"If you need anything else, just ask. Okay?" Christa looked over at Walter, who was hunched over on one of the beds. "Clem, you think you could stay with her for a little while?"

"Sure."

"I'm gonna talk to Walter for a bit. He may have just lost his boyfriend, so, that's something we have in common," commented Christa in a grim tone. "If you need anything, just…"

"I will." Christa looked at Clem, clearly still worried for her.

"Okay." Christa sat up and moved over to where Walter was sitting, leaving Clem alone with Sarah. Turning back to the older girl, Clem noticed Sarah was staring at her.

"I know. I look really bad," commented a downtrodden Clementine.

"I… I just can't believe someone would do that to a little girl," said a horrified Sarah.

"They don't care how old I am," noted a depressed Clementine.

"I care," retorted a shaken Sarah. "It's… it's not right."

"They don't care what's right either." This revelation seemed to further upset Sarah, which just made Clementine feel worse. "Sarah, didn't you use to live here before?"

"Not… not right here. My dad…" Sarah seemed to seize up for a moment after mentioning her father. "...we had our own room, where I stayed."

"All the time?" asked Clem.

"Almost."

"So, you don't really know much about this place?"

"I'm sorry, no," apologized Sarah. "I mean, sometimes I heard things. But I didn't know they did stuff like this. That they hurt little girls and tied people up and killed people. That must be why my dad… it must be why he said we had to leave."

"Yeah, probably," answered Clem, not entirely convinced.

"I… I couldn't do it," sniveled Sarah.

"Do what?"

"I couldn't shoot him. Pete… he told me to shoot and I just couldn't… and now he's… he's dead," whispered a traumatized Sarah. "Because… I couldn't shoot that man."

"It's not your fault Sarah," asserted Clem.

"But… I should have shot that man," realized Sarah.

"Killing is wrong, no matter what."

"But he's a bad man. If I had shot him, he couldn't hurt anyone anymore."

"Yeah," conceded Clementine.

"So, why would shooting him be wrong?" asked Sarah, genuinely curious to the answer.

"It's wrong because…" Clementine pondered Sarah's question, trying to think of an answer. She thought back to when she shot the man on the radio, and remembered how sick she felt afterwards. "It's wrong because you shouldn't have to kill people."

"But you do have to?" concluded an upset Sarah. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," nodded Clem. "Because even though it's wrong, sometimes you have to do it anyways, because something even worse will happen if you don't. But it's still wrong."

"How… How do you know when you're suppose to do it?"

"I… I don't know," confessed Clem. "I'm not sure if anyone does."

"I don't think I could do it, even if I knew I had to," confessed Sarah. "I'm just not, brave enough, to do something like that."

"It's good that you don't want to kill people."

"But what if I had to?" Clem couldn't help but think back to Lee's fight with the man on the radio, seeing him struggle against her kidnapper for his life.

"Try... try to think about what would happen if you don't do it," instructed a flustered Clementine.

"Richard, pick up." Clem looked over to the fence and saw the man on the other side pick up his radio.

"Go head George," answered the man in a weary voice.

"You can turn in," instructed George. "I'm not sending anyone else to the pen tonight."

"Got it." Clem watched as the man shut off the lantern hanging over him, leaving the pen in darkness.

"But… but… my dad's not here," murmured Sarah. "Where is he?" Clem watched as the guard left the fence and disappeared into the distance.

"Clem, you okay?" asked Christa as she carefully moved towards the girl.

"I'm fine." Clem looked to Sarah and even in the dark she could tell she was becoming more worried by the moment.

"You people should get to sleep," mumbled Mick without looking up. "Trust me, you'll need it. And more importantly, I need it. So please, shut up."

"I guess we're not doing anything else tonight," reasoned Christa as she sat down on a bed. "Clem?"

"I'll be fine. I just want to talk to Sarah a little more," assured Clem. "I'll go to bed in a second."

"Okay, just get me if you need anything." Clem watched Christa lie down, then turned back to a still trembling Sarah.

"Wha… what… what am I going to do?" stuttered a terrified Sarah.

"He'll come back," said Clementine, unsure if Carlos would return. "Just, not tonight."

"But… but what if he doesn't? I'd be a alone," realized a panicking Sarah.

"You wouldn't be alone," argued Clem. "I'd still be here. So would Christa, and Walter. You'd be okay."

"But…"

"Sarah, you should just go to sleep. Things will be better in the morning... probably." Clem couldn't look away from the anguished look on Sarah's face. "Sarah, why don't you sleep in my bed?"

"Huh?"

"My parents… They use to let me sleep in their bed when I got scared," explained Clem. "Would it make you feel better if I was right next to you?"

"I… I don't know. Maybe?"

"Just, lie down." Clem put her hand on Sarah's shoulder, nudging her towards the bed until Sarah lied down on her side. Clem then gently pried Sarah's hands off her knees. "It'll be okay Sarah," assured Clem as she tugged on Sarah's ankle. Sarah slowly unfolded her legs, allowing Clem to pull the older girl's shoes off. Clem set the shoes under the bed, then quickly took off her own. Turning back to Sarah, she saw her removing her glasses.

"Here. I'll put them up." Sarah handed Clem her glasses. Clem took off her hat and set the glasses inside, then slipped the hat under the bed next to their shoes. Lying down, Clem discovered the bed wasn't very comfortable, the pillows were completely flat, and the blanket didn't offer much warmth, but it was better than sleeping on the ground she figured.

"Thank you Clementine," spoke Sarah, sounding calmer but no less anxious. Clem pulled the covers over their bodies and tried to settle into a comfortable position. Even with her back turned, Clem could still feel Sarah's presence next to her. The older girl's weight shifted the bed springs a little, as if they were pulling Clem towards Sarah. Closing her eyes Clementine did her best not to think about her situation, hoping to forget her troubles long enough to go to sleep.


	31. The First Day

Clementine opened her eyes. It was morning now. Looking around she could see that Mick boy was already awake. Clem tried to sit up, but couldn't. She looked down and noticed Sarah's arms wrapped around her. Listening closely she could hear Sarah breathing and assumed she was still asleep. Clem carefully shifted one of her arms free of Sarah's grasp. She gently tried to pry Sarah's hands away, when Sarah suddenly pulled Clementine closer.

Rolling over, Clem found herself to face to face with a still mostly asleep Sarah. Trying to wriggle free, Clem discovered Sarah had an unusually strong grip. Looking more closely at Sarah's face, Clem couldn't help but notice that even while sleeping she still looked worried.

"Sarah?" Clem watched as Sarah's eyes slid open slightly. "Um, hi," greeted an awkward Clem. "Could you let me go?" Sarah's eyes popped open when she realized where her arms were.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," apologized an embarrassed Sarah as she hastily released Clem. "I didn't mean to. I…"

"Sarah, It's fine," assured Clem. "I just wanted to sit up. That's all." Clem reached under the bed and retrieved her hat. She handed Sarah her glasses back and put the hat on, then reached down for her shoes next. Clem wrinkled her nose, realizing the cotton was still in it. She pulled the pieces out and tossed them aside, relieved should could literally breathe a little easier.

"She dead?" Clem looked over to see Mick's brother, Matt, hovering over Felicity. He he had short dark hair and didn't look much taller than Clementine herself.

"Nah, she's coming around." Mick undid Felicity's restraints, allowing her to sit up. Looking at the woman in the light, Clem was shocked to see the misery hanging off her sickly face, as is she was dying.

"My dad's still not here," realized a troubled Sarah as she scanned the area.

"Neither is Nick," noted Clementine.

"Is he ever coming back?" wondered Sarah out loud.

"It'll be okay. He's probably just...busy." This answer didn't seem to ease Sarah's mind. "You okay?"

"I don't know, maybe," shrugged a nervous Sarah. "I... I kinda need to go to the bathroom though."

"Yeah, me too." Clem looked at the small crude wooden closet built in the corner. Wandering over to it, Clem found an open door and peered inside. In the middle of the area was a stool with a hole cut in it, a toilet seat crudely attached to it and a metal bucket underneath it. There were only three wooden walls, the forth wall was just a section of the fence with a tear in it that allowed some crude chute to poke through.

"Gross," commented Sarah as she looked over Clem's shoulder.

"Yeah, but it's all you get until lunch," informed Mick as he approached Clem and Sarah. "They don't give us bathroom breaks. Matt found that out the hard way."

"Don't tell them that!" exclaimed Matt.

"Just make sure you empty the bucket through the hole in the wall when you're done." Matt left Clem and Sarah to look on in disgust at their only bathroom. Clem sighed and stepped inside. She closed the door, locked the latch and tried to hurry. The worst part was emptying the bucket. Clem didn't even want to think where that chute went. Opening the door, Clem found Sarah waiting nervously outside.

"Just try to get it over with real quick," suggested an uncomfortable Clem as she moved towards where Christa was sitting.

"You okay Clem?" asked Christa.

"Not really," admitted Clem. "I don't like this place."

"Yeah, me neither. I remember when we first found the cabin, I thought to myself, I wish we had found somewhere with a better bed," grumbled Christa as she rubbed her back. "Do anything to get back there right now."

"I wish I had my old room back," admitted Clem. "I thought I hated it at the cabin. But other than not having much to eat, it was pretty good."

"Not having much to eat was a pretty big problem," consoled Christa. "Looking back on it, I'm thinking Omid was right, that we should have spent some more time scavenging before we made the move."

"But then we might have found this place," noted Clementine in a grim tone.

"Yeah." Christa sighed. "Damned if you, damned if you don't." Christa watched as Sarah left the bathroom. Christa groaned to herself as she stood up. Clem noticed Walter sitting in next bed, still grieving.

"I'm sorry about Matthew," said Clem as she approached Walter.

"We don't know what happened. That George person said he slipped by. He could still be out there. Maybe even trying to find us," rationalized Walter.

"Yeah, maybe," said Clem in a doubtful tone.

"When I said I couldn't imagine how hard this is for you, I apparently meant it. I never even thought Christa wasn't actually your mother." Clementine was surprised to hear this.

"How…"

"She told me last night," answered Walter. "I won't ask you about it, I just wanted to say you have my condolences, for anything that's happened."

"Thanks Walter," said Clem. "I'm sorry you're stuck here because you helped us."

"I have no regrets about helping any of you," assured Walter. "These people are the ones who attacked us unprovoked and they're the ones holding us prisoner now. Not Pete, or anyone else." Walter sighed. "Still, he could have told me. Maybe there was something we could have done."

"I don't think he liked thinking about this place." Walter looked over at Felicity, who was hacking and coughing.

"I just got here and I don't like thinking about it." Clem saw Christa emerge from the bathroom.

"Mick say you better go now, because they won't let you again until lunch," informed Clementine.

"You know, I used to be a teacher, and I had colleagues who would tell me I shouldn't let students use the bathroom during class because some of them might use it as an excuse to skip."

"What did you do?"

"I'd always tell them, they're not asking to be here, the least we can do is let them use the damn bathroom." Walter stood up and headed for the bathroom himself. Clementine looked over at Felicity, sitting alone on the bed on the furthest end. She tried to approached the woman, but felt a tug on her collar.

"I wouldn't go near her if I were you." Clem spun around to find Mick and his brother standing behind her. "You'll catch whatever she's got."

"Why do you care?" asked Clem, finding Mick's tone fairly unconcerned.

"Because if you get sick that's one more person me and my brother are stuck with who could get us sick," informed Mick. "And believe me, none of these people are going to help us if we get sick."

"You're not another weird kid, are you?" Matt asked Clem.

"Are you?" retorted Clem.

"I'm not a kid at all," retorted an annoyed Matt. "I'm fourteen."

"Really?" she asked in disbelief. "You don't look like it."

"Yeah, well you look like shit!" snapped Matt.

"He's kinda touchy about how short he is," informed Mick.

"I'm not short!" insisted Matt. "I just, haven't hit my growth spurt yet."

"You've been saying that for like two years. By the time it finally happens you'll be short for fifteen or sixteen, or fifty." Clem watched as Matt pouted while Mick turned around. "Say, is that your sister sitting over there?" Mick was staring at Sarah, an odd smile on his face.

"No, she's just a friend," informed Clementine.

"She got a name?"

"Why do you want to know?" asked Clem, suspicious of Mick's motives.

"Just, being friendly. Wanting to know who you people are."

"Last night you said you didn't care who we were."

"Well, not then because I wanted to sleep. Now, I want to know."

"Then why didn't you ask me what my name is?" pondered Clementine.

"What's you name?" asked Mick in an annoyed tone.

"And why didn't you ask anyone else their names?"

"Forget it, I'll ask her myself."

"Away from the door!" Clem looked over to small gate in the fence. She saw Maude, Consuelo, Tom, and a heavyset middle aged man with a beard and a mustache standing outside.

"What's going on?" Clem asked Mick.

"It's just breakfast." Maude unlatched the gate and entered with the other three guards. Past them was another person, a thin man with glasses in dark green pushing a cart into the pen. The cart had an orange water cooler on it, some cups and a stack of plates.

"Everyone front and center," ordered Maude in an authoritative tone. Clementine jumped as she felt something brush past her leg. She watched in disbelief as she saw someone emerge from under the bed she was standing next to. It was another boy, about Matt's size with messy red hair.

"Who the hell is he?" asked Christa as she looked at the new boy in bewilderment. Clementine couldn't help but stare at the huge scars on the boy's face, she felt sick upon seeing part of one his ears was gone, and gasped when she saw his right eye was missing, seeing just a misshapen red hole where it should be.

"Oh yeah, forgot to mention the weird kid," mused Mick as he lined up by the cart.

"Was he here last night?" asked a confused Christa. "How do you forget about someone?"

"You'll forget about him too," insisted Mick. "Sleeps under his bed, never says a word."

"Never?" asked a dubious Walter.

"Well, you'll get a 'yes' or a 'no' or a 'I don't know' out of him, and sometimes I hear him mumbling to himself. But you can't carry on a conversation with him."

"Why not?" asked Walter.

"I don't know, why don't you ask him?" suggested Mick.

"Enough talk, you can socialize at lunch," dictated Maude. "For now, you get your water, you get your breakfast, and then you will get to work. We've got a lot of catching up to do today." Clementine watched as Mick moved to the cart. The thin man in glasses filled a cup from the cooler and handed it and a plate to Mick.

"A lot of you are new, so listen closely." Edmund handed the one-eyed boy a cup and a plate. The boy immediately darted away and into a corner where he hastily chugged the water down as if he hadn't had anything to drink in days.

"You will eat and then return your plate, cup and utensil. Nothing more." Clem watched as the one-eyed boy started shoveling food into his mouth with his bare hands. It was then Clem noticed he was actually missing a few fingers on his right hand.

"New girl, you're holding up the line." Maude's words brought Clem back to her senses. She moved to Edmund, received her plate and cup, then sat down on a bed next to Sarah.

"Is this, scrambled eggs?" Clem studied the yellow concoction on her plate. There were small bits of green in it as well, but it did look like eggs.

"It doesn't look like half an egg even," noted a disappointed Sarah as she studied the portion.

"But, it's real egg?" Not content waiting for an answer, Clem grabbed the plastic spork sitting on her plate and tasted the egg. Much to her surprise, it wasn't good, it was incredible. It was still warm even, and something in it gave it a slightly spicy taste.

Clem found herself instinctively gobbling up the egg in no time. Looking at the rest of her plate, she saw a couple of cucumber slices and part of a strawberry. The strawberry was heavenly and the first time Clem remembered tasting fruit not from a can in months. The cucumbers were also savory, so much that upon realizing her plate was empty, Clem found herself disappointed she had eaten so quickly. Clem drank her water and handed the plate, spork and cup back to Edmund.

"Please, Maude," begged Felicity. "Can't you give me anything?" Looking at the trembling woman, Clem noticed she had only a cup, no plate. "You can not feed me tomorrow or…"

"No, don't ask me again," dictated Maude in a cold tone.

"Wait, Greg said if I…"

"Greg's dead," informed Maude in an equally cold tone.

"Well what about the rest of you?" Felicity turned to other guards. "I'll do anything. Anything!"

"Any takers?" asked Maude.

"You were never my type," answered the bearded man.

"And I don't do girls." Consuelo looked at Mick. "You don't need something for your brother again, do you?" Consuelo's gaze seemed to terrify Mick.

"Tom, please," begged Felicity to the the athletic man in red.

"I got cigarettes this week instead of canned goods," informed an apologetic Tom. "Maybe next…"

"That's a no," clarified Maude. "And I don't do trades. So you'll just have to hold out for now."

"Here, you can have the rest of mine." Walter tried to offer his plate to Felicity, but Maude stepped in between them.

"You'll do no such thing," informed Maude.

"I can't give her my food?" asked an infuriated Walter.

"It's not yours to give," retorted Maude. "That's for your consumption only. Nothing more."

"What does it matter if she eats it instead of me?"

"Her getting a free handout defeats the point of her being punished."

"Punished for what?"

"She allowed an unauthorized departure from our compound," explained Maude.

"Pete said he was going to check on his traps, just like every morning," rationalized Felicity. "How could I have known he wasn't coming back?"

"Do you know her?" Clem whispered to Sarah.

"Not really," whispered Sarah. "But, she was the one watching the gate the morning we left."

"You should have reported to Mr. Carver like you were instructed," lectured Maude.

"So you're not feeding her because of a clerical error?" asked a disgusted Walter.

"That, clerical error, compromised the safety of all of us," retorted Maude. "And not that it's any of your business, she's not being fed today because she refused to work yesterday."

"I tried, but I just couldn't keep up," cried a desperate Felicity. "I'll work harder when I get better, I promise. Just give me another chance."

"This is your second chance," informed Maude in a cold tone.

"So what if I just give her my food anyways?" asked a defiant Walter. "What will happen then?"

"I'll take it from her and you'll have nothing to eat on your next meal as well." Walter stared at the angry little woman.

"You know what, I'll save you the trouble." Walter thrust his plate into Maude's hands. "If she's not eating, I'm not." Felicity looked at Walter in surprise, shocked by his gesture.

"So be it." Maude put the plate back on the cart. "Anyone not done eating, finish. It's time to move." Sarah and Christa put their plates on the cart as Edmund pushed it out of the pen.

"Hungry loudmouth," Maude said to Walter. "You're with Tom. Felicity with Consuelo. Pregnant woman with Richard. Matt, Mick, glasses, baseball cap, and the wild child are all with me."

"Wait, what are you doing with the kids?" asked Christa.

"Children outside." Maude gestured to the gate with her gun. "The rest of you know what to do." Clem watched as the bearded man took Christa by the arm and pulled her away. "Forward. Both of you." Maude shoved both Clem and Sarah towards the door, where the others were already standing. "Start marching." Clem did as she was told, moving forward with the rest of the group.

Looking at Sarah, Clem could tell she was upset. Clem herself felt sick as they were marched forward. The reality of being at the mercy of the same people who killed Pete and beat her felt all the more crushing to Clementine with every step she took. A horrible thought entered the girl's mind as she stared at the towering walls surrounding her. Clem realized she might never leave this place.

So frightening was this to the young girl she reached over and grabbed Sarah's hand, desperate for any kind of comfort. Clementine squeezed the older girl's hand, and felt a slight tinge of relief when Sarah squeezed back. Clem was too frightened to say anything out loud, but she inched closer to Sarah, brushing against her arm in an attempt to make contact.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen!" Clementine looked across the yard to find a very tall rolling ladder out in the open. At the very top was Bill seated in small recliner with a megaphone in his hand. "It's February the twenty third, another beautiful day, and already I have some good news. Some of our wayward residents have returned to us, including our local physician. However, on a bittersweet note, old Pete won't be coming back, evidently more comfortable taking his chances in the wilds than to stay with us." Clem felt sicker upon hearing Bill's casual announcement of Pete's fate.

"We've also got some new faces today," continued Bill. "An older gentleman named Walter. A fiery pregnant gal called Christa. And a little girl in a baseball hat who goes by Clementine. I expect you all to give them the same respect and courtesy you give each other. After all, they'll probably be joining you soon enough."

"Bullshit…" mumbled Mick under his breath.

"Remember now, Don't wish things were easier, wish you were better. You do that and before long, things will be better, because we made them that way. All of us." Clem looked towards the cargo container they were approaching. It was open on both ends, appearing to be a tunnel into another area walled off by closed containers.

"Head inside and take a seat," instructed Maude as everyone passed into the container.

"Seat for what?" Maude slammed the container doors closed, sealing everyone inside.


	32. Making Friends

Clem walked with the others, emerging from the tunnel into a small open area bordering one side of the fence. There were three folding tables arranged in front of what looked like an office desk and a pair of whiteboards. Each of the folding tables had two chairs, one of which the one-eyed boy immediately sat down in.

"What is this?" Clem asked Mick.

"Got me," shrugged Mick has he headed for the table on the right. "By now Matt and I are usually toting shit around while listening to some assholes talk about what a shitty job we're doing." Mick sat down and immediately put his feet up on the table, an action Matt immediately mimicked. "Anything that gets us out of work is fine by me."

Clementine walked with Sarah to the table in the middle and sat down. Clem looked over to the one-eyed boy sitting in the table across from her. He seemed completely uninterested in what was happening, his remaining eye glazed over as he stared off into nothing.

"What did they do to him?" asked Clementine.

"If by them, you mean the assholes running this place, I don't think they did anything," answered Mick. "He looked like that when they put him in the pen like a month ago. Like I said, he never really talks, unless one of the people in charge ask him something. Even then, he just does whatever they tell him to."

"What's his name?" asked Sarah.

"Hell if I know," shrugged Mick. "Why don't you ask him?" Sarah turned to the boy.

"Um… What's your name?" The boy said nothing in response. "I'm Sarah, and this is Clementine. You don't have to be afraid of us. We won't hurt you." Clem watched for any sign that the boy was hearing Sarah, but saw nothing.

"Something really horrible happened to him," realized Clementine.

"Like what?" asked a worried Sarah.

"I don't know. Maybe his…"

"You… you're nice girls," mumbled the boy in a weary voice, not even looking in Sarah and Clem's direction.

"Um, thanks," smiled Sarah.

"Bad things… happen to nice girls," the boy seemed to be talking to himself.

"What?" asked a startled Sarah. "Why would you say that?" The boy didn't answer.

"Like I said, you can't talk to him," insisted Mick. "Hell, that was more than he usually says in a week." The sound of the cargo door creaking open caught everyone's attention. As they heard the door shut, everyone watched as a red-headed girl with a pony tail entered the area. She looked to be around Mick's age, was dressed in a turquoise tracksuit, had a radio attached to her waistband, and her green eyes carried a kind of confidence Clem didn't see in most people these days.

"Well, this just got better," smirked Matt as he glared at the new girl.

"Ugh." The girl turned away from Matt in disgust and went right for the only empty remaining seat. "Not bad enough to be locked in a room with this place's trash, I also got stuck with some weirdo," groused the girl as she looked at the one-eyed child. "Hey, weirdo, what's your deal? What happened to your eye?" The boy didn't answer. "Hey, I'm talking to you." Still no response. "Hey! Say something!" The boy said nothing. "Weirdo." The girl turned towards Clementine's direction. "Sarah?" she asked in surprise.

"Um, hi Bridget," greeted Sarah in a meek voice.

"You know her?" asked Clementine.

"Kinda."

"So it is true. You and your dad came back. But where have…" A wicked smile crept across Bridget's face. "Oh, I get it, you two are in the pen now."

"Actually, I don't know where my dad is," answered a distressed Sarah. "I haven't seen him since last night."

"They're probably torturing him or something." Clem watched as Sarah started struggling to breath.

"Don't tell her that," protested an angry Clementine.

"Who are you, her girlfriend?" asked a sarcastic Bridget. "Why are you holding her hand?" Clem didn't even realize she was still holding Sarah's hand.

"They were spooning in bed this morning too," added Mick with a smirk.

"Eww, sick." Clementine hastily let go of Sarah's hand.

"We're… I mean, she's, just scared," insisted an embarrassed Clementine.

"Are you like her prison bitch or something?" asked Bridget. "No wait, she's probably your bitch. That's why she's got that pink headband thing on. So everyone knows she's the property of a kindergartener."

"We're just friends," insisted Clementine.

"Leave it to a loser like Sarah to make friends with a stupid little kid."

"Clementine's not stupid," insisted a nervous Sarah. "She's really smart. And really brave too."

"Compared to what, you?" asked Bridget. "Because my mom's chickens are braver than you. Smarter too."

"Leave her alone," demanded Clementine.

"Or what, you'll make your face even uglier?" snapped Bridget.

"Just what the hell did happen to your face?" pondered Matt.

"A mean woman hit her with a gun," answered a trembling Sarah. "It was horrible."

"God you're such a fucking baby," noted Bridget in disgust. "I bet if someone pulled your pants down we'd find out you're wearing a diaper."

"I wouldn't mind pulling her pants down," volunteered Mick.

"Eww, really?" commented Matt.

"You two want to see her cry?" Bridget asked Matt and Mick. "Hey Sarah, the toilet in pen is next to a fence. People can watch you go to the bathroom." Bridget's observation disturbed Sarah, and made Clementine feel sick herself. "Not that anyone would want to watch your ugly ass."

"Shut up!" yelled Clementine.

"Hey Sarah, your dad is dead!" Sarah threw her hands over ears, whimpering to herself while tears welled up in her eyes. "You're more pathetic than the weird kid here." Bridget turned to the one-eyed child, and was surprised to see he was staring at her.

"What's your problem freak?" The boy appeared angry now. His eye glared at Bridget while his whole body seemed to tense up, as if he was going to pounce. "You got something to say?"

"Just stop already," demanded Clementine.

"Make me you dumb kid," retorted Bridget.

"You're just a bully," accused Clem.

"Ouch, that stings," mocked Bridget. "You're a little bitch."

"Oh yeah, You… you're a cunt!" Sarah looked at Clem in surprise while Matt started laughing out loud.

"The little kid just called you a…"

"I heard her you asshole!" Bridget barked at Matt. "You can't talk to me like that you little bitch."

"Why not?" scoffed an angry Clementine.

"Because you live in the pen with the rest of the trash," said Bridget. "Pen people can't talk to me like that."

"Well I just did," noted Clementine with a smirk. "Cunt."

"I'm tell my mom what you said and…"

"You'll tell your mom?" mocked Clementine. "What are you, a baby?" Matt giggled at Clem's comment.

"My mom's really important and when she hears what you said you'll be in big trouble," explained Bridget. "I bet they'll stop feeding you when they hear what you said." Clem tensed up when she heard that. The sound of the cargo container opening just made Clem more nervous.

Everyone watched as a young man with curly light brown hair entered the area with a pair of books in hand. Looking closely, Clem recognized him as the man leaving Bill's office last night.

"Sorry I'm late everyone," he said in a friendly voice as he placed his books on the desk. "I was…"

"Gene," called Bridget. "This new girl just called me a cunt. Twice." The man turned and looked right at Clementine.

"Is that true?"


	33. The School of Unfortunate Children

"She wouldn't stop trying to make Sarah cry," explained a nervous Clementine as Gene looked at her. "She was saying all these horrible things to her, like her dad was dead, and…"

"All right, enough." Gene turned to Bridget. "Bridget, if you don't want people telling you you're a cunt, then don't act like one."

"What!" Matt started laughing out loud as Bridget was dumbfounded by Gene's suggestion. Clem felt a little relieved, figuring she wouldn't have to stop eating because of what she said.

"She's from the pen," reasoned Bridget. "She can't…"

"Bridget, in my classroom you're not getting any special treatment just because you're my only student not from the pen."

"Oh yeah, well my mom…"

"I just finished talking to your mother," said Gene. "She feels the same way."

"No way." Bridget pulled the radio off her waistband and held the talk button down. "Mom!"

"What is it dear?" answered an older woman in a weary voice.

"Gene says that you said…"

"Bridget, if you're going to insist on joining Bill's crew one day, then you need to stop calling me about every little thing that happens," insisted Bridget's mom. "Now, if you want to come home, then…"

"Oh, I get it," snapped Bridget. "This is just another way to trick me into thinking joining the crew is a bad idea."

"No, Bridget…" Bridget turned her radio off and slammed it on the desk.

"Well, now that we've settled that, let's get started," suggested Gene.

"With what?" asked a confused Mick. "What the hell are we doing here?"

"We're at school you idiot," informed Bridget.

"Bridget, enough." Bridget crossed her arms. "And yes, this is a school, and I'm your teacher, Eugene Spiegel, but you can just call me Gene to save time." Gene smiled at his class. "Now, why don't we start by going around the room and getting acquainted." Gene turned to Mick. "What's your name?" Mick smirked.

"I'm Butt-head and this is my brother Beavis." Matt giggled.

"Really? Interesting names. Bit hard to remember though. How bout I just call you Mick and Matt for short?" Mick glowered in response. "And how old are you?"

"I'm sixteen, he's fourteen," informed Mick.

"And you?" Gene turned to Sarah.

"I'm Sarah and I'm thirteen." Gene turned to Clem.

"My name is Clementine. I'm nine."

"You know who I am." Gene stared at Bridget until she groaned. "Bridget, seventeen."

"And you son?" Gene turned to the one-eyed boy, who didn't respond. "Come on. We talked about this. Tell me your name."

"Ad… Adam?" The boy sounded like he wasn't sure if that was his name.

"And, how old are you?"

"Ten?" he answered without looking up.

"All right, now are there any questions before we get started?" Sarah raised her hand.

"Um, what are we going to be learning at this school?" she asked.

"Good question," said Gene. "Obviously, we're not going to have a typical curriculum, seeing as these are atypical times. For most of the morning we're going to do pretty basic school work, albeit work tailored to better fit with our current circumstances. After that we'll have one of the members of the crew teaching you useful skills relating to survival. Today however I'm just going to teach you everything we know about lurkers, seeing as they've become a pretty big part of our day to day life.

Then, after lunch, you'll break into groups of two and spend the rest of the day with a key member of the community learning about their particular trade while aiding them in their day to day tasks." Gene looked out at the current seating arrangement in front of him. "It seems like you've all got your study partners figured out."

"Wait, I gotta be paired up with this weird kid?" asked Bridget. "Can't I just do mine by myself?"

"No Bridget, you can't," refuted Gene. "All though, if you want to change partners before we start, that's possible." Bridget looked at the rest of her choices, and grimaced, which seemed to reflect how the rest of the class felt about working with Bridget, except Matt, who was eagerly smiling at her.

"Ugh." Bridget turned back to one-eyed boy, who was staring off into space again. "At least you don't talk, I guess."

"Any other questions before we get started?" asked Gene

"So, are we gonna get graded on this stuff or something?" asked Matt.

"Not specifically, no," answered Gene.

"Well, what's the point then?" asked Mick. "I mean, why should we even bother?"

"You should bother because I'm going to be teaching you things you should know," instructed Gene. "This is for your benefit, all of you. And even though you're not being graded, I and anyone else who is instructing you we will be observing you very carefully. So, if you're hoping to do something other than tote boxes around here in the future, this would be a good time to apply yourself. But if you two feel classes are a waste of time, just say the word, and I'll have Maude take you to back to your regular work." Mick and Matt exchanged annoyed glances.

"Any more questions?"

"Will there be any homework?" asked Clementine.

"Brace yourselves for this," warned Gene. "There will be no homework. I know, tragic. Just one of the many sacrifices you children have to make in these trying times." Gene turned to one of the whiteboards and started writing. "Now, if there aren't any other questions. Let's get warmed up with some simple multiplication and division."

"Really?" asked Matt. "It's like the end of the world, and we still got to do math?"

"Yeah, didn't you say this stuff was gonna be things we need to know?" asked Bridget. "When are we going use this nerdy stuff anymore?"

"That nerdy stuff is a pretty big part of our schedules around here," retorted Gene. "We regularly calculate the yield of your mom's coop and the greenhouse divided by the portions served and the number of people we have to figure out our ratio of renewable food to non-renewable food, which tells us just how long our current supplies will last."

"Yeah… but that's stuff you do here," reasoned Bridget. "The people who go looking for stuff don't need to know this."

"Actually a big part of supply runs is knowing how far we can travel on how much fuel we have left." Gene gestured to the board. "If your vehicle gets on average twenty miles to the gallon and you have ten gallons of gas, how far could you get?" Sarah raised her hand.

"Two hundred miles," she answered.

"That's the furthest you could go, but you also need to consider your return trip. So if you only go halfway before you have to turn around, your point of no return would be half the total distance you could travel. So, you divide two hundred by two and get, say, Clementine?"

"Um…" Clem found herself at a loss. "I… I never learned how to divide before I stopped going to school," she confessed.

"Dumbass," mocked Bridget. "It's a hundred."

"Bridget, enough," warned Gene. "Clementine, just…" Gene paused, trying to think of something.

"Maybe I could help her?" suggested Sarah.

"Sure, you can be Clementine's personal tutor," realized Gene. "You work with her while I quiz the others. Bridget, since you're so eager to answer, I'll start with you."

"Dividing is just like subtracting, but you do it more than once," explained Sarah.

"What do you mean?" asked Clementine.

"Like, to figure out twenty-five divided by five, you take away five until you get to zero, and how many times you took it away is your answer." Sarah took Clem's hand and balled it into a fist. "So, you got twenty-five. What happens if you subtract five?"

"It'd be twenty." Sarah uncurled one of Clem's fingers.

"Now, take five away from twenty?"

"Fifteen." Sarah uncurled another finger, leaving two fingers standing on Clem's hand.

"Now take five away from…"

"Ten." Clem raised a third finger. "Five." A fourth finger. "Zero." Clem looked at her five fingers. "Twenty-five divided by five is, five?"

"That's right," smiled Sarah.

"But how did Bridget figure out two-hundred divided by two so fast?" asked Clem.

"Well, you remember how when you subtract big numbers, you put them on top of each other and subtract part of the number at a time?"

"Kinda," said Clem.

"You can do something like that for dividing," said Sarah. "You look at it as two, zero and zero, then divide each number by two. Two divided by two is one. You can't divide by zero, so those are both zeros. So you got one, zero, zero. One hundred. Get it?"

"I think so," said Clem. "Does that mean multiplying is like adding more than once?"


	34. Come for the Food

"So we've covered the rapid transformation that occurs after someone dies that turns them into a lurker, how that changes the body, their bizarre tendency to stop rotting after a certain point, their general impervious nature to anything that doesn't destroy their brain, their instinctive need to kill and eat living things, and how that has no relationship to their well being," recapped Gene. "What else?"

"How bout how to kill them?" suggested Bridget. "You know, the only thing we need to know?"

"Right, killing lurkers." Gene took his marker and drew an arrow pointing to the head of a figure he drew earlier. "You destroy the brain. Typical methods include gunshots and blunt objects. Now, moving onto…"

"Oh come on, you spend like twenty minutes talking about how they rot, but only five seconds on how to fight them?" protested Bridget. "I thought you were teaching us stuff we need to know?"

"If you had been paying attention, Bridget, you'd realize this is stuff you need to know," retorted Gene. "How they rot affects their effectiveness. Freshly made lurkers have more muscle mass, making them stronger and more dangerous. Where as ones who have decomposed for some time have fragile limbs. If you find yourself without a means to destroy the brain, aim at one of their legs. There's a good chance you could break it, greatly reducing their mobility."

"Cool," said Bridget.

"As their senses of sight and touch degrade not long after transformation, Lurkers hunt mostly by sound, smell and taste, and in that order. Following noises, they're at their most gullible, and without smelling prey near-by, can be fooled repeatedly. Once they've smelled something alive they become more focused, ignoring most noises. In addition to living people, most animals, and even just fresh blood will attract a lurker. Once they've tasted blood they feed until such they no longer taste fresh blood, or they hear something loud enough to distract them and start the whole process over."

"These things sound like wimps," said Bridget. "Dumb wimps. Slow, dumb, wimps."

"What they lack in cunning and agility they make up for in tenacity and willpower. They don't sleep, they don't eat, they don't feel pain, and they never stop. Slow as they are they can cover a lot of ground because they never rest. Their average speed is around two miles an hour, but over twenty four hours of non-stop movement they can…"

"Wait, I know," interrupted Clem as she tried to figure the problem in her head. "It's... forty-eight, right?"

"Yes, about fifty miles a day if they hear something loud enough. Even if one of you went four miles an hour, a fairly modest pace, you'd have to walk for twelve hours straight, at that speed, to equal the same distance they'll travel in the other twelve hours you'll need to use for sleeping, eating and everything else we need to do to stay alive.

And there's the bites. Lurker bites are fatally toxic. This seems to be specifically bites as we've had people scratched by lurkers and plenty have come in contact with them alive or dead and been fine. But something in the bite will kill you, usually within a few hours. And the only known cure is simply removing the part of the body that was bitten," explained Gene in a grim tone.

"Are you sure about that?" asked Clementine. "I knew someone who cut off his arm after he was bitten and… it didn't work."

"We've had two people survive bites because of amputation. But we've also had three die after amputating, all though one was likely from blood loss…" Gene seemed to lose his train of thought. "So, even though it's possible, it's not exactly a fool proof solution. Especially if you're bitten somewhere you can't cut off." Gene took a breath and looked at his watch. "Well, it's close enough to lunch for break. So, unless any of you have any questions?" Clem thought to herself, then raised her hand. "Yes?"

"Why don't the walkers attack each other?" asked Clem.

"Like I said, they only seemed interested in living things," explained Gene. "Anything else?" Clem thought carefully.

"No."

"Great. Here's hoping I haven't put you kids off your appetites." As Gene moved to the door, Clem noticed Adam was looking in her direction. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her, or just staring off in Clem's general direction since he had the same bored stare he had all through class.

"Maude, open up," called Gene as he knocked on the cargo door leading out.

"Yes?" asked Maude as she cracked the door.

"We're kicking off for lunch," explained Gene.

"It's still six minutes to twelve," informed Maude as she checked her watch.

"Really Maude?" asked an annoyed Gene.

"I'll have to inform Mr. Carver." Maude removed a radio from her belt. She tinkered with one of the knobs and held the talk button. "Mr. Carver, sir, come in."

"What is it?" barked Bill's voice over the radio.

"Mr. Spieigel wants the go ahead to leave his class before…"

"Just do what Gene tells you!" snapped Bill.

"Tell the old bag to go…" Consuelo's voice was cut off by the radio. Maude adjusted her radio and placed it back on her belt.

"All right everyone. Move out." Maude led the group to an area in the middle of the yard where a large tent had been erected. Bordering it on one side was yet another cargo container. Looking closer, Clem could see this container was smaller than others and had a chunk cut out on the side to make for a window. Beneath that was a slab of metal welded onto the container, creating for a kind of table. The top featured a pair of chimneys made from sheets of metal, which were currently billowing black smoke.

"Residents first," dictated Maude as she positioned herself by the window.

"That's right, we go first," bragged Bridget as she and Gene moved to the window. Clementine watched as a pair of portly arms reached through the window and set out a pair of large bowls. Then a pair of small bowls. Bridget and Gene took one of each, then moved under the tent. Mick and Matt went next, receiving only a large bowl each. Then Adam, who after getting his bowl started hastily slurping whatever was in it while lurching away from the group.

Clem moved to the window next, Sarah following right behind her. Looking inside Clem saw a couple of very big stew pots over a large fire. She watched as the Edmund person from earlier threw a few pieces of wood into the fires.

"Well who do we have here?" Clementine looked up to find a slightly chubby man in a apron standing over her. "What's your name precious?" he asked with a smile.

"Um… Clementine."

"And do my eyes deceive me, is that really you Sarah?" asked the man.

"Yeah, hi Cookie," greeted a meek Sarah.

"And here I was thinking Thanksgiving was the last I was ever going to see of you," said Cookie.

"You… you haven't seen my dad have you?" asked Sarah, desperate for an answer.

"No, but you all are my first customers of the day. Once things get going…"

"Cookie, you're holding things up," said Maude. Cookie poked his head out the window and looked for anyone else.

"Holding who up Maude?" asked Cookie with a smirk.

"Holding me up," she retorted, clearly not amused. "Give them their food and move on."

"Right, right." Cookie set out a couple of big bowls. Looking inside Clem saw a soup of some kind with tiny bits of vegetable floating in it. Next came a pair of smaller bowls with what looked like canned peaches inside.

"No," halted Maude. "Pen people don't get canned goods."

"Wait, Bill's keeping both of them in the pen?" asked Cookie in disbelief.

"As of now, yes," answered Maude.

"Really, even that little girl?" asked Cookie, clearly disturbed by this revelation.

"What part of yes did you not understand?" asked an annoyed Maude. "Do you want me to call Mr. Carver so he can tell you himself?" Cookie sighed and set the smaller bowls back inside.

"Sorry girls," he said in an apologetic tone. Just as Clem picked up her bowl someone slammed an empty one right next to hers. Looking over, Clem saw Adam darting out of sight. Cookie picked up the empty bowl while Sarah collected her food.

"Move along." Clem followed Maude's order and headed towards the tent. Laid out underneath were three rows of tables. Clem could see Bridget and Gene seated at the row farthest from the food line, Mick and Matt were at the closet row. Maude moved past Clem and Sarah and took a seat in the middle row. Not sure what else to do Clem sat down near Mick.

"Do we get anything to drink?" Clem asked Mick.

"Right there." Mick gestured to an orange water cooler sitting on the middle of the table.

"Where are the cups?" asked Sarah as she sat down. "And spoons."

"We're not important enough to get those for lunch," scoffed an annoyed Matt.

"You gotta just sip it, and when you're done use your bowl for water, and no more than a bowl full," explained Mick. "Believe me, tight ass over there will make a big deal about it if you do. Same goes for trying to share." Clem looked over to see Maude was watching from her table. "Cranky old bitch has nothing better to do with her life." Clem carefully lifted up the bowl to take a sip. Much like the eggs she had this morning, she was surprised that it actually tasted really good.

"Wish she'd leave again," commented Matt as he stared in Maude's direction. "Those few days when most of the crew was gone were awesome."

"So, how is it you're new here but you already know Cookie?" Mick asked Sarah.

"I'm not new here," answered Sarah. "I lived here for a long time. But I had to stay in my room."

"What, all of the time?" asked a dubious Matt.

"Pretty much. When I first came here I stayed in the main building for a while. Then when they finished the rooms I stayed there," answered Sarah. "My dad let me come here for Thanksgiving dinner. That's when I met Cookie."

"Is that also when you met Bridget?" asked Clementine as she set her bowl down.

"Yeah," answered Sarah in a less than enthusiastic voice. "I didn't know there was anyone else my age here, so I went over to her and told her my name, and asked if she wanted to be friends."

"And she didn't want to be your friend," assumed Clem.

"When I asked her why, she said I'm a loser. Then when I asked how could she know that if she just met me, she said I look like one. And when I said 'I do?', she got really mad at me, and started yelling at me," Sarah's voice wavered as she recalled the incident. "And then I got upset, and she asked if I was going to cry and started saying I was a baby, and I did cry, and my dad got angry and…" Sarah drifted off.

"I'm sorry Sarah," said Clem.

"You know, I could be your friend," suggested Mick with a smirk.

"Really?" asked a pleasantly surprised Sarah.

"Yeah, really?" asked Matt, less than pleased.

"Why do you want to be her friend?" asked Clem, suspicious of Mick.

"I like her. What, you're the only one who can be her friend?" asked Mick. "Why don't you let her decide?"

"Well, it would be nice…"

"If you like her how come you didn't stand up for her when Bridget was trying to make her cry?" asked Clem, interrupting Sarah.

"You were handling it," said Mick. "What's…"

"And... why did you say you wanted to pull my pants down?" asked Sarah, her voice more uneasy than before.

"You know what, forget it," grumbled Mick as he turned back to his meal. Looking around, Clem noticed more people had sat down while they were talking. She saw Hector and two other people at Bridget's table, and three more at Maude's table, two of which she didn't recognize, and none of which were actually sitting next to Maude. Looking over back towards Cookie's container, she saw a bearded man approaching with a familiar woman right behind him.

"Christa!" Clem jumped out of the chair and ran over to her.

"Clementine!" Christa put her arms around Clem. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"No, we were just at school," informed Clem.

"School?"

"Are you okay?" asked Clem. "What did they do?"

"I've been boiling and moving water all fucking morning." Christa eyes narrowed as she looked at the bearded man as he got his meal. "And that man wouldn't shut up the entire time I was doing it."

"Did he hurt you?" asked a worried Clem.

"He was driving me crazy with his bullshit. Other than that I'm okay." Christa looked over to the makeshift kitchen. "So, this the gruel line?"

"Um… It's some kind of soup," answered Clementine. "It's really good actually."

"Really?" Clem nodded. "A prison camp with gourmet food. This place is getting weirder with every minute." As Christa went to get her bowl, Clem noticed Tom approaching with a very tired looking Walter lagging behind him.

"Walter?" Clem approached the weary man. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Wood," answered Walter. "Chopping and stacking wood. Lots of it." Walter surveyed the area. "Is that woman here? Felicity?"

"She won't be here," answered Tom as he got his bowls. "Like Maude said, she's not getting any meals today, so she wouldn't be coming here."

"Well then I don't need to be here since I'm not eating either," asserted Walter in a weak voice. Maude leapt out of her seat and headed right to Walter.

"Just sit down," insisted Tom as he intercepted Maude. "I'll handle it." Tom moved in very close to Walter. He pushed the man away from the others and started whispering in his ear. Clem couldn't hear what they were saying, but she saw as Walter's face seemed to sink as Tom talked to him. Walter sighed and moved to the window to collect a bowl.

"See, handled it," Tom boasted to Maude. "Why don't you go back to looking for line cutters?" Clem went back to her seat, now joined by Christa and Walter.

"Jesus Walter," said Christa in a concerned voice.

"Yeah dude," said Mick. "You're gonna get yourself killed on the first day."

"An event few in this place would be concerned with, I'm sure," grumbled an embittered Walter.

"I'd care," said Sarah.

"Me too," added Clem.

"Be careful saying that out loud," warned Walter in a hushed voice.

"Why?" Christa's eyes narrowed. "What did that guy just say to you?" Walter looked around, checking to see if anyone else was hovering around the table.

"He said," whispered Walter. "Don't do this. Don't starve yourself. I see too much of that as it is."

"Wait, that's all he said?" asked an underwhelmed Christa.

"Why did he have to whisper that?" asked Clem.

"Why indeed?" said Walter. "It's like basic human decency has been outlawed in this place."

"Dude, why you getting all worked up over this Felicity chick?" asked Mick. "She used to be one of guards here, and you literally just met her this morning. You hoping she'll put out if you try to be her hero?"

"No, I just find it disturbing when a woman is begging for food and I'm not allowed to give her the few scraps I have in my hand," retorted Walter. "I guess I'm the only one."

"It… it bothered me too," said Sarah.

"She looked so sick," commented Clementine in a sad tone.

"Honestly, it bothered me more when she said she'd do anything, and that bunch of sickos started sizing up," noted a disgusted Christa. "Like they were out shopping for a piece of meat."

"You might as well get use to it now," suggested Mick. "Me and Matt have been here for a while, and stuff like this is just business as usual. Happens all the time."

"It… it does?" asked a horrified Sarah.

"Yeah, was happening right around you when you were hiding in your room," accused Matt. "You were probably getting your water from us half the time."

"I… I didn't know," stuttered Sarah.

"Leave her alone," said Clementine. "It's not her fault you're in here."

"Let it go Matt," suggested Mick.

"No way. You and me get worked everyday because of people like her," retorted a bitter Matt. "I mean, what did you think? The water fairy brought you something to drink every day?"

"No, I… I just figured it was people who wanted to help," answered a meek Sarah. "That's all."

"You think people just want to help?" repeated Matt. "That's just stupid."

"No, it isn't," declared Walter. "Wanting to help your fellow man and woman is a basic instinct we all share."

"Clearly not all of us," noted Christa as she glared at the brothers.

"Even if we did, I think our survival instinct is more important these days," added Mick.

"Compassion is part of survival," countered Walter.

"So, what, we can survive if we're just nice to each other?" asked a dubious Mick.

"In a sense, yes," said Walter.

"Really?" asked Sarah.

"Altruism developed in us, as well as other species, because it better enabled us to survive," argued Walter. "It's one of the things that helped us prosper."

"Now you're just full of shit," scoffed Mick.

"No he's not," retorted Clementine.

"It's been studied that in some mammals, that one member of the species will call to the others to warn them of predators, even though it puts that one member at greater risk. Why?"

"Because it was stupid?" suggested Matt.

"Because it wanted to help?" added Sarah in a meek voice.

"Because it was better for the species as a whole," answered Walter. "Better to sacrifice for the good of many then to preserve the one at all costs. The more plentiful a species, the more likely it will survive, which means the more likely a single member will survive. In a sense, it's in your own best interests to help others, if just because it means there will be more people who will be more willing to help you in the end. A mutual desire to both survive and prosper."

"Well that's great in theory, but I don't think it works in practice." retorted Mick. "Why should I, personally, risk myself for anyone, especially these days? I don't care about us as a species. Why should I bother taking a chance helping someone?"

"Because one day someone might have to take a chance for you," said Walter. "No man is an island. At some point, you'll need help yourself."

"You know where Matt and I ended up the last time I thought about asking for help?" asked Mick. "We ended up here. And we're still here. All because I thought that big yard full of people might be willing to help a couple of guys who weren't even old enough to drink yet."

"Last time I asked for help I ended up at his place." Christa gestured to Walter. "And he didn't make me wheel water barrels around for a meal."

"Yeah, and now you're both here, same as Matt and me," retorted Mick. "You can sit there and talk about how we should help each other all day, but the fact of the matter is, we simply don't. And shitty as this place is, it's about as good as it gets anymore." Mick glared at Walter. "Well, you gonna tell me I'm wrong?"

"Actually, I was just wondering what happens if you're right," answered a dismayed Walter. "What if we, as a species, are doomed by our short-sighted tendencies and our inability to cooperate? Then what? What exactly do us, any of us sitting here at this table, have left to look forward to? Why are we even bothering to stay alive if this is all we can expect?" An uncomfortable silence followed Walter's question.

"Well…" said Mick, as if he was still searching for an answer. "I don't care what you people are staying alive for, but I've still got Matt." Matt smiled at his brother. "That's reason enough for me to stay alive."

"What about when he dies?" asked Clementine in a cold voice. Sarah looked at Clementine in surprise, while the brothers shot daggers at her from across the table. Mick picked up his bowl and left the table without a word, a move followed shortly by Matt.


	35. Stay for the People

Maude called an end to lunch in her typical authoritative manner. Christa and Walter were taken away by Tom and the bearded man, while Maude told the others at the table to wait for their instructors for the afternoon.

"Okay, is there an Adam here?" asked Byron as he approached the table, Bridget following right behind him. "Because Gene said… Jesus!" Adam emerged from under the table directly in front of Byron, who put his hand on his holster. "He's Adam?"

"Apparently," shrugged Bridget.

"Ohh… Kay… Well, you're with me today." Adam didn't respond. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes…" answered Adam in a quiet voice.

"All right, come on." Adam followed Byron and Bridget.

"You two Matt and Mick?" asked a slender man in greasy gray coveralls.

"I guess we're with you?" The man nodded at Mick. "All right." The brothers followed the man away from the tables.

"My… My dad never came to lunch," realized Sarah.

"Neither did Nick," added Clementine.

"They're… they're not feeding him," concluded an anxious Sarah.

"Well, maybe…"

"What if they are torturing him?" asked a terrified Sarah. "Or what if… what's if he's already dead?" Clem took hold of Sarah's hand as she started weeping.

"Sarah, please don't cry," said Clem as she rubbed Sarah's hand. "I'm sure he's okay."

"You don't know that," said a choked Sarah.

"Well, no. But…"

"What's the matter dear?" Clem and Sarah looked up to see an elderly woman in overalls standing over them. She was brawny looking woman with long grey hair and distinct green eyes brimming with concern. "What's bothering you?" She sat down in front of Sarah and took hold of her other hand.

"My dad didn't come to lunch, and no one's seen him. I'm worried that he's not eating, or worse."

"You're Carlos's daughter, right?" asked the woman.

"You know me?" asked Sarah.

"I'm Bridget's mother, Gertrude," introduced the woman. "Your father had a lot to say to me after Thanksgiving, which in turn led to me having a lot to say to my daughter. I suppose this doesn't mean much now, but I am sorry for what Bridget said that evening."

"You haven't seen my dad today, have you?" asked Sarah.

"No, I'm afraid not. But just because he didn't come to lunch doesn't mean he's not eating," assured Gertrude. "Edmund takes meals to people who can't stop what they're doing at noon."

"He used to bring me all my meals," realized Sarah. "But, where's my dad?"

"I'm sure he'll be okay dear. I mean, they didn't bring him home just to hurt him. And he's our only doctor. So he's important here. They're…" Gertrude took a deep breath. "They're probably just making him do extra work, to get caught up since the crew was gone for so long."

"Are you sure?" asked Clementine, fairly certain Gertrude wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's all it is." Gertrude looked more closely at Clem. "You're Clementine right? Gene was telling me about you. I thought you'd be more Sarah's age."

"I'm nine and a half."

"And they're keeping you in the pen?" Clem nodded. "Well, hopefully that'll only be temporary." Clem could tell Gertrude was staring at her nose. "Did one of those boys do that to you?"

"Consuelo hit me with her gun."

"What? Why?"

"Probably because I shot off her thumb off." Clem's answer clearly shocked Gertrude.

"George hit me because I pointed a gun at him," added Sarah. "And Pete… he…"

"No, no, just forget I asked," insisted a disturbed Gertrude as she stood up. "That happened outside. It's over now and you're in here and you'll be fine. Now, just come on."

"Come on what?" asked Clementine.

"You're… Oh, right, I'm your, what did Gene call it, instructor, for the evening."

"Instructor for what?" asked a timid Sarah.

"I'm Shaffer's resident poultry farmer. If you eat any eggs, they come from my chickens," explained Gertrude with a sense of pride.

"So, we're gonna learn to be chicken farmers?" asked Clem.

"Well, as much as you can in one afternoon. Speaking of which, we should really get started." Gertrude smiled and led the pair away from the tent.

"I still remember when I first started getting eggs for breakfast," noted Sarah. "It was like a month after I moved into my room."

"That was about the time I moved here. Gene convinced Bill to relocate as much as my farm here as we could," explained Gertrude.

"How do you and Gene know each other?" asked Clementine.

"He and Lauren came to my farm sometime after the dead started coming back. They were just looking for a place safe from the lurkers. Eventually some of Shaffer's people found us and Gene worked out a deal so we could keep my birds here instead. Gene also helped set up Lauren's greenhouse and Cookie's kitchen. He's a really smart man."

"But, he's not in charge," noted Clementine. "Bill is."

"Well, I don't get wrapped up in the politics around here. I'm just tend to the my flock." Gertrude stopped in front of a white cargo container and unlocked the front. "All though, I've been trying to tell Gene it'd be better for the birds and us if we went free range."

Pulling the door open revealed a makeshift coop with a few dozen squawking residents. Fences bordered the edge of the container, creating a series of small cages lining the interior, each with no more than a single chicken. Three small square holes cut in the top of the container let in light.

"Unfortunately, Bill is apparently insistent on knowing how many eggs each individual chicken is laying," continued Gertrude as she grabbed a wire basket lying on the ground. "I keep telling Gene that I've been doing this since I was a teenager, I'll know when a hen stops laying. But apparently Bill won't have it." Gertrude handed the basket to Sarah and a clipboard to Clementine.

"We'll start simple," said Gertrude. "I want you two to collect all the eggs and keep a tally on which chickens laid and which haven't." Clementine looked at the clipboard and noticed there was a diagram of the coop on it. "It's a simple two woman job. One of you collects, the other watches and keeps count. Should be done in no time.

Normally Bridget and I do it in the morning, but since Gene wants you kids to get involved with the community you'll be doing it today. Obviously, handle the eggs carefully, and even more importantly, handle the basket even more carefully. Despite the saying, you do in fact put all your eggs in one basket, because who the hell has the time to drag along extra baskets when you don't need them?" Gertrude headed for the door.

"You're not staying?" asked Clementine.

"I'm going to get some feed out of storage. I'll be right back." Gertrude stopped at the entrance. "Remember to keep an accurate count." Gertrude took a step forward but stopped suddenly. "Oh, one last thing. Clementine?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't call my a daughter a cunt." Clem tensed up. "Even if she was acting like one." Gertrude smirked, then left the girls to their work. Clem looked over into one of the cages and the chicken inside. It looked kinda thin for a chicken and some of its feathers were missing.

"So, this doesn't look too hard," said Sarah. "As long as they don't peck me I guess."

"They do look kinda hungry," noted Clementine. Sarah moved the first cage and reached over to pick up an egg. "That's one." Clem took a pencil wedged on the clipboard and made a mark on the corresponding cage on the diagram.

"It's smaller than the ones we use to get in stores." Sarah held the egg out for Clem to see. It was indeed fairly scrawny looking for a chicken egg. "In fact, when we first started getting eggs, they were boiled instead of scrambled. And I remember them be bigger then."

"Maybe the chickens don't feel well," suggested Clem. Sarah moved to the next cage and searched inside. Seeing nothing she moved to the cage after that and carefully removed the egg inside.

"Thanks for helping earlier," said Clementine as she marked the chart.

"With what?"

"With the multiplying and dividing," reminded Clem.

"Oh, you're welcome."

"It's weird doing school work again," commented Clementine. "I kinda liked it, sorta. Almost felt like things were normal for a little while."

"I liked the work okay. But…"

"Bridget?" Sarah frowned.

"Yeah. I don't understand why she hates so much," said Sarah. "I tried being nice, but it just makes her mad for some reason."

"She's just a…"

"Please don't say it again," pleaded Sarah.

"I was gonna say bully," said Clem.

"Oh."

"You should stand up for yourself."

"I just can't."

"You stood up for me when Bridget said I was stupid."

'Well that's different, you're special."

"I am?" asked Clem, not convinced she was particularly special.

"Yeah, you're really brave and cool," said Sarah. "I'm not. I'm not even like the other kids my age. Probably because I am a loser."

"I'm glad you're not the like the other people your age."

"Really? You like that I'm a loser?" asked a dubious Sarah.

"I think they're the losers. You're really cool." Sarah smirked a little. "And you're not ugly either. You're really pretty."

"You're just saying that," assumed Sarah.

"No I'm not." Sarah seemed a little embarrassed by Clem's admission. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Even though my face is all messed up?"

"You're still a cute little girl Clem." Sarah turned away from the cage and noticed that Clem seemed annoyed now. "Is something wrong?"

"You called me little."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know you didn't. I'm just sick of being little," said Clem. "Today in school I felt so stupid. There was so much I didn't know."

"You're not stupid just because you don't know something. You said so yourself."

"I know, I know. It's just, there's all this stuff I don't know because I'm little, and there's all this new stuff you have to know because things are different, and it just feels there's not enough time for me to learn all these important things. Like, I can't catch up."

"Well, maybe that's why we're going to school. So we can catch up."

"I hope so," said Clem. "The weird thing is last time I was in school I felt the opposite. Like I already knew everything I was suppose to."

"You felt like you knew everything?"

"About the first grade I did. I had to do it twice."

"You flunked the first grade?"

"I didn't flunk," retorted a defensive Clementine. "It was almost summer, and we had to move. My mom said I could finish the first grade at my new school. But something went wrong and I couldn't go. And I couldn't do it in summer school either."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I asked my mom a couple of times. She just said that everyone running both schools were a bunch of idiots," explained Clem. "She also said that even though I didn't do anything wrong, I'd have to start in the first grade at my new school after the summer. When I told her that wasn't fair, she told me that she was sorry, but life isn't always fair."

"That sucks."

"It wasn't so bad. Everything was really easy because I already did it before. All the other kids thought I was really smart. But I felt different from everyone. Since my birthday is right after school starts, I was older than a lot of kids. And since I had to do first grade twice, that made me even older. I was the only eight year old. Everyone else was seven or six. So I felt like I didn't fit in." Sarah removed an egg from the last cage and Clem marked the chart.

"That's all of them," said Sarah as she carefully set the basket down. "She was right. That didn't take long."

"Did you ever feel like you didn't belong in school?"

"I home schooled."

"So your dad taught you?"

"Sometimes. When he was around."

"And when he wasn't?"

"I would just read the text books and do the work sheets myself. When he got home he'd grade it."

"So you never went to school at all?"

"Well, I did, until the second grade..." Sarah trailed off.

"Why did you stop?" Sarah tensed up. "Did something bad happen?"

"Yeah…"

"What?"

"If I tell you, will you promise to never tell anyone else?"

"I won't tell anyone."

"Well, one day, I had to pee really bad. But I was afraid to ask my teacher. Since it was near the end of the day, I figured I could just hold it until the bell rang."

"But you couldn't?" Sarah hung her head in shame.

"The girl next to me noticed and yelled out 'Sarah peed her pants' as loud as she could. Then all the other kids started laughing and pointing at me. And then I started crying. And then one of them started yelling 'crybaby', and they all started yelling 'crybaby' over and over again, and it just made me cry more and…" Sarah sat down, letting her head fall into her hands.

"I'm sorry Sarah."

"I don't even remember what happened after that. I just remember the next morning, my dad told me I wouldn't have to go school anymore. That was the worse day of my life." Clem watched as Sarah seemed to grow even more upset. "Or it used to be. Last night…" Sarah pulled her knees up to her chest.

"It was horrible," said Clem as she sat down right next to Sarah.

"Pete…" whispered Sarah. "That man… He shot him in the head. I… I never saw something so awful before." Sarah turned to Clem. "Have you?" Clem looked at Sarah, then weakly nodded in response.

"I saw a woman shoot another one in the head, right in front of me." Sarah stared at Clem, shocked by what she said.

"Why?" asked a shaken Sarah

"I… I don't even know really," confessed Clem. "She just pulled out a gun and shot her right in front of everybody. She was so angry."

"She killed someone just because she was angry?" asked Sarah.

"Maybe. I think she was afraid to. Carley, the woman she shot, called her a 'scared little girl' right before she did it. And she looked really scared afterwards, when someone said we should leave her behind."

"Is that just what it's like now? People get mad or scared, and they just kill each other?" Clem thought back to how scared she was herself at the lodge, about how she shot Consuelo and hit the man in gray because she was scared, and how they tried to kill Clem because they were angry with her.

Looking at Sarah, Clem could see the fear welling up in her eyes, and yet she couldn't find it in herself to lie to the older girl, and tell her that everything was okay. Instead, Clem moved in closer and wrapped her arm around Sarah's.

"Not all people," answered Clem as she leaned her head against Sarah's shoulder.

"So, what happened to that woman?" asked Sarah. "Did she get left behind?"

"No," said Clem. "She left us behind." The sound of a squeaking wheel drew the girls' attention back to the entrance. Sarah collected the egg basket as Gertrude appeared at the entrance pushing a wheel burrow.

"Sorry I took so long." Gertrude set the wheel burrow down. "Hector was all scatter brain today." Sarah handed the eggs to Gertrude, who eyed the basket. "None broken. That's good. And do we have a tally?" Clementine handed Gertrude the clipboard, who studied it closely for a moment. "Good work girls."

"How come you have to know how many eggs each chicken lays?" asked Sarah.

"So when we know when it's time to put one out to pasture," answered Gertrude.

"You mean, you set them free?"

"I mean I butcher them."

"Oh…" Sarah was a little put off by that revelation. "That's why we got to eat chicken sometimes." Clem's ears perked up with the suggestion she might actually get to eat meat again.

"Don't get all sentimental now, meat comes from animals. It was true then and it's true now. Probably one of the few thing that didn't change with the rest of the world." Clem found her sudden interest in eating meat again wane with that comment, unable to push the memory of the St. John's dinner out of her mind. "And we can't afford to be feeding chickens that don't feed us, especially not now when I can't get regular chicken feed anymore."

Gertrude pulled a couple of buckets off the wheel borrow and set them in front of the girls. Looking inside Clem saw one bucket was full of some ground up brown and white substances, the other looked like it was diced up plant leaves.

"What are these?" asked Clem.

"It's what passes for feed these days," said Gertrude. "We don't have any corn, so I've been experimenting with crushed pet foods, rice, plants from the greenhouse, any bugs we find, just whatever we have on hand. We're not the only ones making do with less these days," sighed Gertrude as she removed a bucket of water from the wheel barrow.

"Hopefully, when spring gets here, we can build up a coop outside where they can forage for food as well. Lauren we'll hopefully get some corn going and I can let my roosters out so we can have some pullets before next winter. Hopefully." Gertrude handed Clem and Sarah each a small shovel.

"So, we're going to feed the chickens now?" asked Clem.

"In a minute." Gertrude handed Clem and Sarah each an empty bucket.

"What do we do with this?" asked Sarah.

"You fill them."

"With what?"

"With what they ate yesterday."


	36. Quitting Time

"So, you spent all afternoon shoveling chicken shit?" asked Mick.

"No, not all afternoon," answered Sarah. "We finished that pretty quick."

"Apparently they use their poop for fertilizer," added Clem. "We had to throw it in these big compost bins."

"Ugh, that smell," commented Sarah.

"Then we fed them, gave them water, checked all the roach traps and fly paper around Shaffer's for any dead bugs, and then helped make feed for tomorrow," listed Clementine.

"That was the hard part," said Sarah. "Gertrude is trying all these different combinations so we had to keep sorting all these ingredients for her to mix into buckets. We had to ground up old dog food and shred all these leaves."

"What about the eggs?" asked Matt.

"We got them while Gertrude was getting the feed," said Sarah.

"She left you two alone?" asked Mick.

"Yeah, why?" asked Clem.

"It's just, we never get that kind of trust," commented Mick.

"Maybe it's because we just got here?" suggested Sarah.

"Yeah right. It's probably because they're girls," scoffed Matt.

"What does us being girls have to do with it?" asked an annoyed Clem.

"Everyone's always nicer to girls than boys," asserted Matt. "You chicks get everything easier."

"Nicer? Look at our faces," demanded Clem. "Does it look like they've been nice to us?"

"Everyone away from the door!" Clementine looked over to see Maude frisking Adam before ushering him into the pen and locking the door.

"Look at his face," suggested Matt as Adam moved towards the nearest bed. "That's how nice people are to boys." Adam crawled under one of the beds and disappeared from sight. "Nobody feels sorry for him."

"I do," said Sarah.

"I do too," added Clem in a more defiant tone.

"Good for you. None of the adults here do," said Matt. "That Cookie guy didn't care that we were in the pen when we met him. He sees you two and it's some big tragedy. Because you're girls and everyone is suppose to feel sorry for you."

"Maybe that's because we're younger than you," insisted Clem.

"By what exactly? Mick's only a few years older than her. You thought I was a kid when you saw me. You really think he'd care if we were younger?"

"Well, how did Cookie act when he met Adam?" asked Sarah.

"How would I know? I don't care what the chef things of the weird kid," scoffed Matt.

"I think he was weirded out when he started seeing him eat though," said Mick.

"You know, a lot of things are harder for girls," argued Clementine.

"Like what?" asked Matt.

"Well, there's that one thing that only happens to girls," stated a nervous Sarah.

"What thing?" Matt's question just seem to embarrass Sarah.

"Is this that thing you're going to tell me about when I get older?" Sarah nodded to Clementine.

"The secret thing only girls know about that makes things harder. Yeah right," scoffed Matt.

"Matt, give it a rest," suggested Mick.

"No way, they got it easier," insisted Matt. "People don't expect girls to do anything."

"Yes they do. People are always telling us what to do and not listening to us. They wouldn't do that if we were boys," rebutted Clem.

"Bullshit. No one listens to us either, and we get pushed around all the time. Right Mick?"

"Matt, enough," said Mick in an annoyed voice.

"What do you think Adam meant when he said bad things happen to nice girls?" pondered Sarah.

"I don't know," Mick hastily answered.

"I like how there's all these things that make girl's lives harder, but it's secret stuff no one talks about," noted Matt. "Probably because it's not real."

"Matt, why don't you shut up for a while?" snapped Mick.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mick didn't answer Matt, leading to an awkward silence.

"Everyone away from the door!" Clem's eyes lit up as she saw Christa and Walter being ushered into the pen.

"Clementine," called Christa. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, are you?"

"Just tired," said Christa as she sat down on a bed.

"Me too," said a weary Walter.

"I can't believe they're making you work even though you're pregnant," professed a saddened Clementine.

"I can't believe they'd work a wounded nine-year old girl," echoed an equally saddened Christa.

"Matt was just saying how much easier we have it because we're girls," informed a bitter Clementine.

"Oh really?" Matt looked nervous as Christa turned towards him. "You see this?" Christa pointed to her stomach. "This is nine months of a girl's life being made harder. Something we have to do for every single person ever born, which is another thing we've got to look forward to, child birth. You want to know what a cervix is? How bout…"

"Okay, I get it, stop. Yeesh." Matt inched away from Christa.

"Cervix?" asked Clem.

"Just part of where babies come from," smirked Christa. "God knows what these people are going to do to me when I go into labor," she remarked in a more weary tone.

"Knowing them, they'll probably keep working you, then they'll work your baby too," stated Mick in a bitter tone.

"I really hope you're joking, but I gotta a feeling you're not," commented Christa.

"We'll surely they'll have moved you out of the pen by then," reasoned Walter. "Didn't Bill say that Byron man only spent two days here. So…"

"Byron got out because he was a solider, or something, he knew a lot about guns," retorted Mick. "He overhead that Pete guy bitching about his favorite revolver breaking at lunch and told him he could fix it. He didn't go back to pen after that because he had something these people needed that they couldn't get from anyone else."

"That must be why I never came here before. Because my dad was a doctor," realized Sarah.

"You gonna tell me those assholes who like to rough up little girls all have some special skill?" asked a dubious Christa.

"Well that's the other way to get out of the pen," said Mick. "Prove you're loyal to Bill."

"That must be why I'm here now," concluded a despondent Sarah. "Because we weren't loyal."

"How does one go about proving their loyalty?" asked a concerned Walter.

"Line up for supper!" Everyone watched as Edmund pushed a cart towards the door.

"That guy got out for ratting on other people on the pen," whispered Mick. "And all he got was a delivery job out of it. God only knows what those assholes with the guns have to do."

Maude opened the gate, allowing Edmund to push his cart in. Clem got her cup of water and a bowl from Edmund. Supper was some rice with lettuce and radish slices in it. Not exactly as appetizing as breakfast and lunch, but still much better than what Clem had become accustomed to in recent months.

"Are you Clementine?" asked Edmund in a quiet voice as Clem returned her bowl and cup.

"Um, yeah," answered a nervous Clementine.

"Bill said to give you this." Clem watched as Edmund removed a pink backpack from his cart.

"See, girls get everything," remarked Matt. "They never gave us our stuff back." Clementine ignored Matt's remark and immediately sat down to check the pack's contents. Not surprisingly her gun was missing, but much to Clem's disappointment so was her radio and her two books. The only thing left was three pieces of paper.

Clem looked through her drawings again, first of Kenny, Katjaa and Duck, then Lee, then she looked at Sarah's note again. Clem set the note down and turned to her friend, who was staring in Edmund's direction, an anxious look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Sarah didn't answer, she just keep watching Edmund as he pushed his cart towards the door. "Sarah?"

"He didn't come back," said a choked up Sarah as Maude latched the gate behind Edmund.

"You mean, your dad?"

"He's never coming back." Sarah rolled onto her bed. "What am I going to do?" whimpered Sarah as she curled up into fetal position.

"Sarah," said Christa in a concerned voice. "I know this might sound horrible, but if your father doesn't come back, and he may still, but if he doesn't, it's not the end of the world. You'd still be alive, and we'd help you."

"I… I couldn't go on without him," confessed a depressed Sarah.

"Yes you could," encouraged Clem. "I mean, I hope you don't have to, but if you had to, you could." Clem's heart sank as she looked at a broken Sarah. "I… I had to."

"You've still got your mom." Clem covered her face, trying not to cry.

"Sarah, there's something you should know about me and Clementine." Christa put her arm around Clem. "I'm…"

"Away from the door!" Everyone looked to the gate, including Sarah. Between the fence and Maude standing in the way, it was hard to see who was coming. Sarah sat up and watched the door, eagerly awaiting whoever was coming through.

"Nick?" Everyone watched as the haggard young man barely managed to limp into the pen before collapsing onto one the ground. Walter and Christa helped Nick into the nearest bed while Sarah turned back to the door. She watched in anticipation as someone else stumbled through the entrance.

"Dad!" Carlos fell to his knees after Maude shoved him into the pen. Sarah rushed to him as Maude latched the gate. "Dad?" Carlos remained on his knees, gasping for breath. "Dad, get up," begged a teary Sarah. "Please?" Carlos looked up at his daughter.

"Sarah?" Carlos looked at Sarah as if he didn't recognize her, then suddenly threw his arms around his daughter. "Sarah! Thank god!" He croaked in a weak voice. "Thank god you're okay."

"Dad, what happened? What did they do to you?" bawled Sarah as she clung to her father as tightly as she could.

"I'm okay sweetheart. I'm okay now that you're here," assured Carlos as tears ran down his face. "I'm just very tired."

"Then you should rest, right now," insisted Sarah as she guided Carlos to the nearest bed.

"I love you Sarah," croaked an emotional Carlos.

"I love you too Dad." Clem watched as Sarah helped Carlos into bed, even helping to take his shoes off, and found herself envious of Sarah being reunited with her father.

"Maude, pick up," called Hector's voice over the radio.

"Maude here, go head."

"You can take off. Everyone's back at the pen."

"Copy that."

"Wait, not everyone's here," Walter moved to the fence. "Where's Felicity?"

"She's not coming." Maude reached for the lantern.

"Why not?"

"Lights out." Maude switched the lantern off and walked off, leaving Walter and the others in the dark. Walter sat down on the bed, a devastated look on his face.

"Sorry man, but she's gone," explained Mick with a hint of sympathy. "Like I said, business as usual."

Looking around in the dark, Clem could see Sarah closely intertwined with Carlos, clutching him lovingly as she pulled the covers over herself and her weary father. Looking away, Clem saw Christa sitting down on a bed.

"Christa?" said Clem as she approached the woman. "Can… Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"You scared sweetie?" asked Christa.

"No. I'm just, kinda lonely," admitted Clem.

"Oh, Clem. Of course you can," Christa gestured for Clem to come closer. "Provided you're okay with sharing a bed with someone as big me."

"It's fine," assured Clem as she climbed into bed. "I'm little, so I don't need much space."


	37. The Rest of Your Life

"I'm sorry Clementine," said Christa. "I'm sorry I haven't been there much for you lately."

"It's not your fault," said Clem. "They won't let us stay together during the day."

"No, I mean before this. Ever since Omid died I just haven't been good to you. No matter how bad things get, it's no excuse for treating you like that."

"It's okay," assured Clem.

"No it's not," insisted Christa. "I just want you to know, I'm here for you now though. For as much as I can be in this place."

"Why?" asked a weary Clem.

"What?" asked Christa, confused by Clem's question.

"Why?" repeated Clem. "Why are you taking care of me?"

"What? I told you. Lee wanted me and Omid to care of you. And I know he's gone…"

"If Lee hadn't asked you to do that, would you still take care of me?"

"Of course I would," assured a guilt-ridden Christa. "Clem, I'm so sorry about how I've acted. I…"

"I'm not mad at you Christa."

"Then, what?"

"I'm just wondering. Why do you want to help me?" asked Clem. "What makes me so special?"

"Clementine," said Christa in heartbroken voice. "How could you even think you're not worth protecting?"

"Because I'm not," answered Clem in a grim tone. "Not anymore than anyone else. Probably less actually. I don't know a whole lot, and I can't do a lot either. Wouldn't it have been better if Lee was still here, instead of me?"

"No, Clem, you're such a good person. You're a brave, smart, wonderful little girl, and I wouldn't trade you for anything."

"Why not?" asked Clem, unconvinced. "Lee was brave. Braver than me. He was smarter too. And even if he did some bad things, he was a good person too. If he was here right now, he could do a lot more than me. Maybe you would have never been caught if he was here instead of me."

"Clementine, the reason you're here and he's not is because that's what Lee wanted," explained Christa. "That's why he came after you."

"He shouldn't have."

"Clementine," scolded Christa. "Why would you even say that?"

"Because he shouldn't have," repeated an aggravated Clementine. "What makes my life more important than his? Because I'm a kid? Kids aren't important. Not anymore."

"You really think that?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"Yeah, I do," admitted a crestfallen Clementine.

"Then why do you keep helping Sarah?" asked Christa.

"What?"

"Sarah. She's a kid," reminded Christa. "And from the sounds of things you've helped her a lot."

"Well… that's… that's different."

"How?".

"She's… She's not a kid. She's thirteen. That makes her a teenager."

"I see. So if she was your age, you wouldn't help her."

"No, I'd still help her if she was nine."

"Why? She'd be a kid and wouldn't be important."

"I don't care if she's important," retorted Clem. "I like her. She's nice to me. She listens to me, and helps me, and makes me feel better…" Clem felt Christa's hand slide up her arm and to her face, tenderly caressing Clem's cheek.

"Sounds like someone I know," smiled Christa.

"So, I'm important to you," concluded Clem. "It doesn't mean kids are important."

"Children are very important Clem. They always have been."

"Why?" asked Clem, more open to the idea than a moment ago.

"Because children mean a future Clementine," answered Christa. "I know that sounds cliche, but it's true. If people stopped taking care of children, eventually there'd be no people at all, and then it really would be the end of the world. Things are bad now, but they won't always be, and that's when the world will need people like you."

"Like me?"

"Good kids who grew up to be good people who will help make things better."

"You really think I'd make a difference?" asked Clem.

"Of course," assured Christa, surprised by Clem's doubt. "You've already made a big difference in my life. You stood up to me and stopped me from making a mistake back when I wanted to leave the others. You did it way back in Crawford when I wanted to leave Ben, another kid who needed help. And you did it again at the lodge, when I was thinking about shooting Carlos."

"Would you really have shot him right in front of Sarah?" asked a concerned Clem.

"I won't lie Clem, I really wanted to, and seeing Sarah didn't do much to change that. I actually wanted to start yelling about everything Carlos had done to us, make her realize what an awful man he was before I killed him," confessed an ashamed Christa.

"Then you spoke up, and so did Walter, made me realize just how crazy I was acting. You risked your life trying to find Nick and Matthew. You freed yourself when you were hurt. You've done so much already and you're still just a girl. So never think for a moment you're not important. You're a wonderful girl who's going to grow up to be a great woman some day."

"What if I don't grow up?" asked Clem.

"Clementine…"

"What if it's like Mick said, and this is as good as it's going to get? What if kids just don't get to grow up anymore?"

"I don't think this is as good as it's going to get," insisted Christa.

"But what if it is?" asked Clem. "If you knew things would never get better, and kids don't get to grow up anymore, would you still take care of me?"

"Yes Clem," answered Christa without hesitation.

"Even if you knew I would never live long enough to be a grown up?"

"I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you do grow up."

"Even though it could be impossible?"

"I'd rather die trying to protect you, then live the rest of my life without you."

"Really?" asked Clem, surprised by the emotion in Christa's voice.

"Yes, really." Christa turned to look Clem in the eye, guilt hanging on her face. "Clementine, I want to tell you something."

"Okay."

"This is something I never told Omid."

"What?"

"When we were in Savannah, trying to find you, we got trapped in the attic of that house we were staying in," explained Christa. "While Omid was working on getting us out, Kenny was passing around a bottle of whiskey he found, and he offered it to me, not knowing I was pregnant."

"Why can't you drink when you're pregnant?"

"Because drinking alcohol can hurt a baby," explained Christa. "And I took that bottle anyways."

"Why? Did you, want, to hurt your baby?"

"I wanted to kill it Clem," admitted an ashamed Christa.

"Why?" asked a surprised Clementine.

"Because I was thinking the same thing you were talking about now. That there was just no way I could raise a child in a world as horrible as this."

"Oh…" Clementine thought about everything she just said, not even thinking about how it applied to Christa's baby as well.

"You want to know what changed my mind?"

"What?"

"You did."

"Me?"

"Yes Clem. Seeing you, sitting by that tree, knowing that against all odds, you escaped Savannah, and were still alive, made me realize just how selfish I was. That I would rather kill Omid and I's child before it was born, just because it might die later. After we found you, I told myself, I wouldn't do that again. That I wouldn't just give up on the world before it was over." Clem looked at Christa, noting the the regret in her eyes.

"Then I won't either," promised Clementine. "And I'm sorry if it sounded like I was just now."

"It's okay Clem. Like I said, I've had my own doubts. It's not easy to… Oh!"

"What?"

"The baby's kicking."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you wanna listen?"

"Can I?" Christa pulled her shirt up, allowing Clem to press her ear against the woman's belly. "Wow. I can feel it."

"God I hope it's healthy," said Christa. "I'm still worried I gave it birth defects from drinking that stuff back in Savannah. Not to mention none of us have been eating all that healthy lately."

"It feels healthy," commented Clem as she put her hands on Christa's stomach. "I wonder what will happen when it comes out."

"I don't know Clem, this really doesn't strike me as a good place to raise children," said Christa. "Hopefully someone in here cares about a baby other than us."

"I'll help you," promised Clem.

"I know you will Clem," smiled Christa. "For now, let's just get some sleep. It's been a really long day."

"Actually, can I ask you one last thing?"

"What is it?"

"I think I heard another new swear word today, but I'm not sure."

"Ugh, what that horrible woman say this time?"

"It wasn't Consuelo. If you don't want me to say it…"

"Just say it Clem."

"Spooning."

"Where'd you hear that?" asked Christa, sounding amused.

"Mick said Sarah and I were doing that," said Clem.

"Sounds like he was just messing with you."

"So it is a swear word?"

"No, it's not a swear Clem."

"Well, what is it then?"

"Spooning is just when you grab onto someone you care about while they're sleeping."

"Like I'm doing?" Christa looked down at Clem, clinging to her belly.

"Yeah, in a sense. You could maybe say that."

"I like it."


	38. The Prisoner's Dilemma

"So, that's probably enough about the Roman Empire for today," concluded Gene as he started erasing the board.

"Ugh, why do we have to keep learning this stuff?" whined a bored Bridget. "What does it matter what happened a thousand years ago?"

"Ancient Rome was the largest city of its time and part of an empire that represented what was the modern world of its time, and it fell. Yet mankind marched on. So I just thought I'd help give you kids some perspective when you start thinking this is the end of the world. Just because we're experiencing a fall of our own does not mean this is an end."

"That Caesar guy sounded kinda cool," commented Matt. "Just rolling into Rome and taking over the place."

"In addition to being 'cool', I hoped Caesar would demonstrate just how big an impact a single person can have on history." Gene checked his watch. "We've got a bit of time left before your survival lesson for today. So I've got a little game we can play." Gene drew a line down the middle of the white board, then drew a stick figure on each side.

"You and one other person are taken prisoner, each accused of a crime. You're both separated from each other, unable to communicate, when you're approached by your captors.

They tell you if you say the other person committed the crime, you can go free, but that person will get five years in prison. That is unless the other prisoner says you did it as well, then you both receive three years. However, if neither of you confess, you'd each receive only one year. But if you don't confess, and the other prisoner does, you'll receive five years in prison."

Gene drew out the different outcomes with a chart, demonstrating how being betrayed had the harshest penalty but betraying someone else presents the best outcome. "So, what do you do?"

"Say the other guy did it, duh," answered Bridget.

"Yeah, no brainer. Right Mick?" Matt looked to Mick, who still seemed to be pondering the question. "You gotta think about this? The answer is obvious."

"Well not really, if the other guys talks too you're getting three years," noted Mick.

"Yeah, and if you don't talk, you could get five," reminded Matt.

"That's true," conceded Mick. "I'd talk."

"Sarah?" asked Gene.

"I… I don't think I could do it," said Sarah.

"That's because you're a wuss," said Bridget.

"You'd really risk five years, just for the chance to get only one?" asked Gene.

"It's not that, it's just, if I said the other person did it, and they didn't say I did it, they'd be stuck in prison for five years because of what I did," rationalized Sarah. "And I'd feel terrible if that happened because of me."

"God you suck," said Bridget in annoyed voice.

"Well, that's your choice to make. But I doubt the other person would be as worried about you." Gene turned to Clementine. "What's your answer?" Clem felt torn. Her first instinct was to say she'd tell, thinking she couldn't trust a stranger to help her. But after hearing what Sarah said, she realized she'd be acting just like that kind of person she was afraid of. "Clementine?"

"I wouldn't tell," answered Clementine confidentially.

"Hope you like taking it up the ass for five years," remarked Bridget.

"Bridget, enough." Gene looked at Clementine. "You'd really risk so much of your life on the word of someone you may not even know?" Clementine turned to Sarah.

"Yeah, I would. And if they did the same for me, not only would it not be as long, I'd know I could trust them too."

"Seems like an awful risk to me." Gene looked at Adam, who was staring off into space again. "Adam, what would you do if someone asked you to accuse someone else of a crime in exchange for your freedom?"

"Freedom?" Adam seemed to grow anxious upon hearing that word.

"Just, what would you do if I told you you could have what you want, but you had to tell me what someone else did?" asked Gene.

"I... I tell you what I know," answered Adam in a quiet voice.

"Looks like you two girls are in the minority," Gene said to Clem and Sarah. "Sure you wouldn't want to change your answer?"

"No," answered Clem, slightly annoyed at Gene.

"I don't think I want to either," added Sarah. "Walter said we all do better when we're willing to help each other."

"Who's Walter?" asked Gene.

"He's this smart nice man who helped us."

"Well that's good, but is Walter a teacher?"

"Yes," answered Clem.

"He is?"

"Yeah, he told me yesterday morning that he used to be a teacher," explained Clem.

"So, the Walter person is with you in the pen?" asked a curious Gene.

"Yeah, why?" wondered Clem.

"He just sounds like the kind of person I'd like to meet." The doors swung open, revealing Maude.

"It's eleven," announced Maude. "The children are scheduled for their shooting lessons now."

"Shooting lessons?" asked a nervous Sarah.

"Finally, we get to do something good," commented Bridget.

"Everyone fall in line," ordered Maude. "We've got a walk ahead of us." Clem and the others followed Maude. Clem was surprised to see they were moving back towards the front gate. A man in a yellow shirt Clementine didn't recognize helped Maude slide barricades out of place on the inner gate. As they worked, Clem looked over at the odd arrangement of large plastic barrels surrounding a few short cargo containers.

A metal gutter ran around the edge of each of the containers, and several spouts running down to each individual barrel. Off in the distance, Clem could see Nick and George moving two of the barrels with hand trucks and realized the gutters must collect water when it rains.

"Everyone move up." Stepping into the small walled in holding area, Clem watched as Maude and the man in yellow opened the outer gate, noting that none of the barricades had actual locks like the door in the warehouse. You just had to move them out of place. But watching Maude struggle with the last barricade made Clem realize they must be really heavy.

Stepping outside of Shaffer's felt strange. Clem had only been there two days and already the idea of leaving felt impossible. As they moved across the road Clem looked back, finding an intimidating sight. The long walls made entirely out of thick metal boxes topped with a fence that was topped with razor sharp wire made Clem realize how unlikely escape truly was.

Maude guided the group to a small two story building across the road. A large ladder had been pushed up against the side of the structure, which Maude instructed everyone to climb. Reaching the rooftop, Clem looked around for anything of note, but found nothing but an empty roof.

"So, when do we get to shoot something?" Bridget asked Maude as she reached the top of the roof.

"Your instructor will be here shortly," answered Maude.

"Why isn't he here now?" A deafening gun shot rang across the area, causing everyone except Maude to duck. Everyone looked around frantically for the source of the gunshot, but didn't see anything. They listened closely as they heard someone climbing up the ladder. Clem watched as Byron emerged onto the roof, a pair of rifles on his back.

"I'm Byron, and I'll be your firearms instructor for the day." Sarah moved in close to Clem, grabbing the younger girl's hand.

"Isn't that the man who aimed a gun at you?" whispered Clem.

"He's the one who shot Pete," whispered Sarah.


	39. Just a Thing

"What you just heard was your first lesson," dictated Byron. "Guns are loud. And as I'm sure you've already learned, loud noises draw zombies. So that's why we're up here on a roof where they can't reach us and we won't draw them towards the yard."

"All right, we finally get to do something good," commented Bridget. "I get to go first, right?"

"Before we get started, we're going to review the tenants of gun safety," stated Byron. "Maybe some of you think you already know them, maybe you actually do. I know a few of you have at least held guns before." Clem couldn't help notice that Byron was looking at her and Sarah. "Regardless of your prior experience, these rules are important enough to bear repeating. And if you have questions about any of them, ask me now, because it's imperative you understand these rules before handling a gun.

Rule number one, the gun is always loaded, always. So anytime you're holding a gun, you're to assume it's loaded because guns don't kill people, people kill people, which means if you pull a trigger on what you thought was an unloaded gun, and someone dies, you killed them, not the gun."

"What if we're shooting at creeps and we run out of bullets? Should we just keep pulling the trigger because the gun is always loaded?" asked Matt in a derisive tone.

"In your specific case, yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Bridget laughed as Matt crossed his arms.

"Rule two, never point a gun at something you don't intend to kill. Ever," dictated Byron.

"So if I aim at a tree, it's because I'm going to kill it?" mocked Matt.

"Do you have any moral reservations about killing a tree?" asked an irritated Byron.

"Uhh…"

"What about if you just wanted to scare someone?" asked Sarah in an uneasy voice. "But you didn't actually want to shoot them?"

"You don't point guns at something you're not willing to kill," repeated Byron in a stern tone, which caused Sarah to hang her head in shame. "Even if you don't actually shoot your target, you are in fact threatening them with lethal force, and as such you shouldn't point a gun at someone unless you're also willing to shoot them.

This is not just for their safety, but you're own as well, because someone watching you point a gun at someone else will likely not consider the possibility that you're simply trying to scare them." Clementine thought back to Omid's death, and how she aimed her gun at Nick in anger after he lowered his, feeling ashamed of herself.

"Yeah, what about shooting people in the legs, and stuff like that?" asked Mick. "I mean, you don't always have to kill them."

"There is no safe place to shoot someone," explained Byron. "Your arms and legs contain major arteries, and bones which can fragment when shot, which, potentially lethal in itself, is made more dire by the fact that we don't have access to hospitals anymore."

"But not everyone who gets shot dies," argued Bridget. "What if you just wing someone?"

"I can personally attest to the fact that yes, people can survive gunshots, sometimes to even normally fatal areas. I'm also confident in saying you will not know if a shot will be fatal before you pull the trigger, especially if you're involved in a life or death situation.

So, with that in mind, if you're going to aim a gun at a person, you also must be willing to possibility do what?"

"Kill them," mumbled Adam in a quiet voice.

"I want to hear it from the rest of you," prodded Byron. "If you aim a gun at someone, it's because you're willing to do what?"

"Kill them," said Clem in weary voice along with the rest of the class.

"Now that we're clear on rule two. Let's move onto rule three. Be sure of your target and what's behind it. Bullets penetrate. Keep that in mind if you shoot a zombie when your friend is right behind it.

Rule four, finger stays off the trigger until you have your target and you're ready to fire. Now, any questions before we get started?" Sarah raised her hand. "Yes?"

"Someone told me you shouldn't be afraid of a gun because it's just a thing," said Sarah. "Do you know what that means?"

"I assume your friend was just telling you not to fear guns because they're just objects and can't hurt you by themselves," explained Byron. "However, do respect them and the power they represent. When you're holding a gun, you're entirely responsible for what happens with it. Anyone else?" Clem raised her hand.

"Why does squeezing the trigger help?" asked Clementine.

"Probably because it's helping you to make a smooth controlled motion, which is necessary to maintaining your aim. You jerk the trigger and you're likely to miss your shot because you probably jerked the rest of the gun as well. Anyone else?"

"What are we shooting?" asked Bridget.

"I set up some dummies below for you to practice with." Byron looked at Bridget. "Gene said we'd start with the oldest first and work our way down to the youngest. So Bridget, here's your chance to set a good example." Bridget walked over to the edge of rooftop as Byron removed one of the rifles from his back.

Clem inched closer to the edge of the roof herself, along with everyone else. She looked down and saw a crude dummy made out of a couple of intersecting posts about fifty feet away. It had a shirt on and a paint bucket for its head.

"You're all getting three shots each and no more. Don't be afraid to ask questions, and above all else…" Bridget grabbed the rifle, which Byron refused to let go of. "You don't do anything without my say first." Byron glared angrily at Bridget until she let go of the rifle. "You have any previous shooting experience?"

"Yeah, I used to shoot squirrels on my mom's farm." Byron removed the rifle's magazine, loaded three bullets into it from his vest pocket, loaded the magazine into the rifle and cocked it. "Remember, respect it." Byron handed the rifle to Bridget, who took aim at the dummy. "You have your target?"

"Yeah."

"Whenever you're ready." Bridget tried to pull the trigger, but it wouldn't move.

"What the?" Bridget examined the rifle. "The safety's on."

"Of course it is. Always be mindful of the safety," said Byron to the rest of the class. "You should have checked it before you took aim." Bridget made a face as she clicked the safety off and took aim again. "When you're ready." Bridget fired, striking the paint can head.

"Head shot, good," complimented Byron. "Whenever you're ready." Bridget fired another shot and hit the paint can head again. "Another head shot. Let's try something more challenging." Byron motioned to Bridget to return the rifle. He removed the other rifle from his back. This was one was a good deal larger and had a scope mounted on it. Byron loaded a single round into the scoped rifle and handed it to Bridget.

"About a hundred yards out, near the road. See it?" Clem looked herself and spotted what looked like another dummy off in the distance.

"Yeah." Bridget braced the rifle against her shoulder and looked through the scope, while Byron reached for his binoculars. "When you're ready." Bridget held the rifle tightly, a tense look on her face, then after a brief pause, fired. "Miss."

"I had it," insisted Bridget. "The scope must be off." Byron took the rifle back and loaded another round. "I get to try again, right?"

"No." Byron cocked the rifle. "But I'll double check to make sure the scope is still sighted correctly." Byron handed his binoculars to Bridget.

"Your shot was a little to the right. If the scope's off, so should mine." Byron took aim. "Ready?" Bridget hastily took hold of the binoculars.

"Yeah. I'm…" Byron fired.

"Direct hit. Scope's fine." Byron hosted the scoped rifle onto his back. "Next oldest is up." Mick approached Byron while he loaded the other rifle. "Any previous experience?"

"I shot creeps before I got stuck here," answered Mick as he took the rifle.

"All right, aim for the head and we'll go from there." Mick took aim and clicked the safety off. "When you're ready." Mick fired. "Miss." Byron gently pried Mick's finger away from the trigger. "Use the end of your trigger finger, don't grasp it like you're trying to hold onto it for dear life." Mick adjusted his grip. "Aim for the center of the chest this time. When you're ready." Mick fired. "Hit. Relax your shoulders a little and aim for the head this time. When you're ready." Mick fired again. "Hit. Good. Next."

Mick handed the rifle back to Byron, who immediately reloaded it. Matt approached Byron next.

"Any experience?"

"Yeah, I killed creeps too." Byron eyed the short teenager.

"All right, with your height…"

"What, wait does my height have to do with this?" asked an annoyed Matt.

"You've got shorter arms than them, it'd be easier…"

"I don't need a handicap," he insisted.

"You didn't even…"

"There a problem Byron?" Everyone looked over to see Bill coming up the ladder, carrying something under his arm.

"Bill, what are you doing here?" asked Byron.

"Heard the shots, thought I'd see how Gene's kids were coming along," commented Bill as he set-up an arm chair beside Byron and Matt. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"You missed me kicking ass," commented Bridget.

"Well I'm sure I'll get plenty more chances to see you in action when you're part of the crew." A smug smile formed on Bridget's face in response to Bill's approval. "Who are we up to now?"

"I'm trying to tell Matt here that since he has short arms, he'd be better off firing from prone," explained Byron.

"And I said I don't need a handicap," insisted Matt.

"Why not let the boy try it his way?" suggested Bill as he sat down. "There his shots after all."

"All right," shrugged Byron as Matt took aim. "When you're ready." Matt tried to pull the trigger but it didn't move.

"Mind the safety." Matt hastily clicked the safety off and fired.

"Miss. Were you aiming at the head or the torso?" asked Byron.

"The head," answered Matt.

"Aim at the body this time. And try to relax your muscles, you're tensing up." Matt fired again.

"Another miss, are you still aiming at the head?" asked an annoyed Byron.

"Yeah, because I'm going to hit it," insisted Matt.

"I just told you…"

"Let him try for it," suggested Bill in a casual voice. "See what happens." Byron sighed and turned back to Matt.

"Take your time." Byron said slowly. "Line up your shot, steady your aim, then squeeze the trigger. Pulling it harder won't make you shoot better." Matt took aim. "Be patient. Now, when you're ready." Matt aimed at the dummy for a few seconds then fired.

"Hit. Barely." Byron took the rifle back. "Who's next?"

"I think Sarah here is next," commented Bill. Sarah moved towards Byron, fearful of the man.

"Other than that business with George, you ever hold a gun before?" asked Byron.

"I've held one a couple of other times and I know you're suppose to line up the things to aim, but I've never shot one," informed Sarah.

"All right, well you're going to shoot one now." Byron removed something from his belt. "Seeing as you're inexperienced, you'll shoot from prone, and we'll use a bipod." Byron attached a device to the end of the rifle that it gave it a pair of short metal legs.

"Sarah has to use training wheels," mocked Bridget.

"Shooting from prone is the most basic and stable of shooting positions, and therefore useful to an experienced marksman as well," explained Byron as he set the rifle down on the roof. "If you had thought to use it you may have made your last shot, and Matt probably wouldn't have missed his first two."

"It was the scope," insisted Bridget.

"No it wasn't." Byron stood up. "All right, everyone pay attention. Here's some easy to remember tips to get in proper prone position." Byron turned to Sarah. "Are you right or left handed?"

"Right."

"All right, line up the ride side of your body with the rifle," instructed Byron. "Use your right foot. Make sure it's even with both the direction the rifle is facing and your right shoulder." Sarah took a couple of small steps, trying to orient herself.

"Like this?" she asked.

"Now drop down to your stomach, like you're about to do a push up." Sarah lied down as instructed. "Move yourself towards the rifle. Don't pull it to you, try to move up until your shoulder connects with the stock." Sarah slid forward a bit until she made contact with the rifle. "All right, spread your legs apart as far as you can."

"I like this part," smirked Mick.

"Stop talking and start listening," instructed Byron.

"You heard your instructor. Be quiet," emphasized Maude in a louder voice.

"All right," Byron turned back to Sarah, who appeared nervous. "Like I said, move your legs apart, then turn your feet out so your ankles are flat on the ground. This will help steady your aim." Sarah reluctantly did as instructed. "Now grip the rifle." Sarah put her hands around the gun.

"Now. Take the safety off and line up your sights." Sarah located the safety and switched it off and then looked down the sights. "Now, when you're ready." Sarah fired immediately after Byron said ready, yelping in response to the gun going off. "Easy. Easy." Byron put his hand on Sarah's shoulder as she tried to stand up. "Just relax, breath normally."

"I'm sorry," apologized a jittery Sarah.

"Just stay calm. Like I told you. Don't be afraid of it. It can't hurt you. You're the one in control," assured Byron in a calming voice. "Now just lie down and try again." Sarah slowly took her position behind the rifle.

"You listen to Byron now Sarah," instructed Bill in a friendly voice. "Kid knows everything there's to know about guns."

"Now, don't rush. When I say, when you're ready, that means when you're actually ready," instructed Byron. "After I say that, you take as long as you need. Just relax."

"I'll try," answered Sarah.

"Don't fire until you are. Aim for the torso." Sarah aimed at the dummy. "When you're ready." Clem watched closely as Sarah tried to steady the rifle. Her hands were shaking, but gradually they seemed to stop moving. A short wait after that, Sarah fired.

"Hit," announced Byron.

"I hit it?" asked Sarah sounding unsure.

"Yeah, aim for the head now." Sarah griped the rifle again. "Now, don't hold hold your breath this time," instructed Byron.

"I'm sorry. It's just…"

"You were trying to steady aim, but that's not a good way to do it. What you want to do is breathe normally and try to fire between breaths."

"Between breaths?" asked Sarah.

"There's a little moment between when you breath out and breath back in. Normally you don't notice because it's involuntary, but if you think about it, you can hold that moment and slow your heart rate a little for a second," explained Byron. "Try it right now. Breathe normally, and as you breathe out, stop before you breathe back in." Clem watched Sarah closely. She breathed in and out several times, then suddenly grew very still after exhaling.

"You think you got it?" asked Byron.

"I think so," said Sarah in a unusually calm voice. "Is that what you do when you shoot?"

"Yeah, it works for me, least when I have the option. A life and death situation doesn't always allow you time to use proper technique," admitted Byron. "But anything you can do makes a difference. So, aim for the head, and fire when ready." Sarah took aim and fired a few moments later.

"Hit. Good." Byron took the rifle and reloaded it.

"I did it," realized Sarah as she stood up, surprised by her success.

"I always told your daddy you could handle a gun," complimented Bill. "I wanted you to learn how to use one a long time ago, but he wouldn't have it."

"Why not?" asked Sarah as she moved towards Bill.

"Well, I figured that's between you and him," answered Bill. "All though, he always gave me the impression you didn't want to learn how to shoot."

"He just told me not to touch guns," said Sarah. "I don't think he ever even asked me if I wanted to learn how to use one."

"Well, I'm sure he's got his reasons," assured Bill. "Probably hard for him to accept that kids have to learn these things now, but that's just how it is these days." Bill looked over to Adam. "Speaking of which, I think you're up son." Adam walked over to where Byron was standing. Clem couldn't help but notice he didn't have a bored look on his face, but actually seemed nervous.

"You have any prior experience with guns?" Adam looked at the rifle, seemingly frightened by it.

"Not… not holding them," he answered in an uneasy voice.

"Okay, well, just take it easy," instructed Byron in a calm voice as he examined the boy. "You right or left handed?"

"Right," answered Adam.

"But you're going to have to aim with you're left eye, that'll make things more difficult." Byron noticed the missing pinky and ring finger on Adam's right hand. "And you're probably going to have trouble gripping it too." Byron looked at the nervous boy, then over to Bill. "I really don't think he wants to do this."

"Just let him try it once," suggested Bill. "He's a tough kid, he could handle shooting a gun." Byron turned back to Adam.

"All right, just position yourself behind the rifle, like Sarah did." Adam very slowly lied down and moved towards rifle. "All right, just aim at the torso." Adam started breathing harder as he took hold of the gun. "Take the safety off." Adam looked at the safety for a moment before switching it off. "Now when you're…"

Adam closed his eyes and quickly pulled the trigger. The shot caused Adam to drop the rifle, which Byron quickly secured. Adam scampered backwards until he bumped into Bill's chair. Byron looked at the scarred boy, nervously jerking his head about, looking for some unseen threat.

"Okay, it's not safe for him or us to have him shoot anymore," informed Byron in a concerned tone.

"Everyone was suppose to shoot three times," reminded Maude. "He…"

"I guess it's just not his thing," said Bill in an aloof manner. "Don't sweat it son. You can't be good at everything." Adam looked at Bill and seemed to calm down. "We can let him sit this one out," Bill told Maude.

"If that's what you want sir," conceded Maude.

"I want to see the littlest one try her luck." Clem couldn't help but be annoyed at Bill calling her the littlest.

"All right." Byron loaded another round into the rifle and set it back on the roof. "Now I know you've at least fired a gun, but…"

"Just let the girl shoot Byron," insisted Bill. "I got a feeling she knows what she's doing. If not, she should have been paying attention."

"Okay, get in position." Clem lined herself up with the rifle like Byron said earlier and lied down, moving up and bracing the rifle against her shoulder like she saw Sarah do. "Pick your target, fire when ready." Clem gripped the rifle carefully, flicked the safety off, lined up her sights with the dummy's paint can head, then squeezed the trigger.

"Head shot," confirmed Byron. "Next shot when you're ready." Clem's sights were still on the head so she just squeezed the trigger again.

"Another hit." Byron turned to Clem. "Want to try the distant target?"

"Go head and set her up Bryon," instructed Bill. "Pretty obvious she's already got this one down." Byron removed the remaining round from the rifle, then removed the scoped one from his back.

"It'll be a minute, I gotta swap the bipod," explained Byron.

"Let her try it without," suggested Bill.

"It's kinda of a heavy gun for someone her size, even prone." Clem grimaced upon hearing the word size.

"I'll try it without," insisted Clem.

"See, she likes a challenge." Byron sighed and set the scoped rifle in front of Clem.

"Without the bipod you're going to need to bend your elbows," instructed Byron as Clem tried to get a grip on the bigger rifle. "You've got short ams so you need to grip the stock pretty close to the trigger." Trying to aim the rifle, Clem immediately regretted turning down the bipod. Byron helped position her arms more efficiently, but even then the weight of the rifle was making if difficult for Clem to handle.

"Now, you see your target?" Clem found it hard to know where she was looking due to the incredibly narrow field of view through the scope provided. She suddenly understood why Nick wanted her to be a spotter back at the lodge. Byron eventually guided the barrel in a certain direction and Clem could see the distant dummy near the road. "How bout now?"

"Yeah, I see it," confirmed Clem as she tried to line up the scope.

"Keep your shoulder braced against the stock," reminded Byron as he grabbed his binoculars. "When you're ready." Clem took the safety off and then tried to keep the crosshair lined up with the dummy's head. As Clem tried to tried to squeeze the trigger, she found it much harder to pull than the other rifle, forcing her to grip it has hard as she could. The rifle fired, giving Clem what felt like a kick to her shoulder.

"Body hit." Clem was disappointed to hear she missed the head. "All right, that's everyone. And just in time, I see our first zombie of the day moving this way." Clem looked through the scope, trying to spot the walker.

"You still calling them zombies?" chuckled Bill.

"They're corpses that eat people," reminded an annoyed Byron. "I don't get everyone's cutesy names for dancing around the obvious." Byron went to retrieve the rifle, but noticed Clem was still looking through the scope.

"Looks like she's already on top of it," noted Bill. "Why don't you give her another shot. See if she can get it." Byron looked at Bill, who just nodded at him. Byron removed another bullet from his vest and took the rifle from Clem. He loaded and cocked the weapon, then set it front of the girl.

"Scope is sighted for that dummy," informed Byron. "So wait for the zombie to reach about the same distance before firing." Everyone moved closer to the edge of the roof while Clementine tried to target the walker. It limped slowly towards the group, still so far off that it just appeared as a shuffling figure in the distance.

Clem spotted the walker in the scope, and followed it as it moved closer. She saw the spot where the dummy was planted and readied herself. She put two fingers on the trigger, and lined up the crosshairs just ahead of where the walker was moving. As it neared her mark, Clem breathed out and paused. She aimed just below the walker's head, and squeezed the trigger just as it moved into her crosshairs.

Clem felt another painful kick from the rifle, then watched as the shot tore off a chunk of the walker's head. It fell forward, splattering onto the pavement. Clem watched it for a second, almost expecting it to get up. Then finally let go of the rifle. She sat up and rubbed her shoulder. As she turned back to Byron she noticed everyone was looking at her in surprise, except Bridget who just looked annoyed, and Bill, who seemed amused.

"Looks like we got ourselves a regular Annie Oakley," noted Bill.

"Yeah right," scoffed Bridget. "She had to aim while lying down, and it took her forever. This is just practice, she could never do that if this was for real."

"Maybe," shrugged Bill. "Or maybe she's a natural born killer."


	40. The Vengeance Factor

Clementine took her bowl of soup and sat down next to Christa. Carlos and Walter were sitting across from her, and at the end of the table was Nick, sitting alone. Clem edged closer to Nick, noting the depressed look on his face as he stared down at his bowl.

"Nick?" called Clem. "Are you okay?"

"Since when do you care?" he mumbled in a quiet voice.

"I…" Christa grabbed Clem's shoulder and pulled her away from Nick.

"Just leave him alone Clem," instructed Christa.

"But…"

"Just give him some space," said Christa, sounding concerned herself. "He'll need some time after what's happened."

"Are you okay?" Clem asked Christa.

"I'm fine. Spent all morning in the warehouse with Walter and that Hector guy," informed Christa.

"Helping to keep tally on their spoils of war," added a bitter Walter.

"They're having me list out all the drugs they have here," said Carlos. "And write out layman explanations for what they do. Probably to make it easier to get rid of me." Carlos's grim expression warmed when he saw his daughter approaching. "Are you okay sweetheart?"

"I'm fine dad," assured Sarah as she sat down next to Carlos. "Are you okay? This morning…"

"I was just very thirsty and very hungry," assured Carlos. "I'm all right now." Carlos's hands moved to the crude bandage on Sarah's head. "How's your head?" asked Carlos as he undid the bandage.

"It's okay." Removing the bandage Clem grimaced at the sight of the bloody bruise.

"They should have let me treat you," lamented Carlos as he reapplied the bandage.

"I'm all right," assured Sarah. "Clem and her mom took care of me." Carlos turned to Clem and Christa.

"Thank you for helping her," said Carlos in a sincere tone.

"It's fine," assured Christa in a sympathetic voice. "She's a good kid."

"I'm sorry about all this Sarah," said Carlos. "You just be good for now. I'll think of something. I promise."

"I'm okay," assured Sarah. "Some of the stuff they've taught us is really interesting."

"Like what?" asked Walter.

"Well that Byron guy let us practice shooting," commented Mick as he sat down with Matt. "That was a nice change of pace."

"So all that gun fire I heard was just you kids practicing?" asked Christa.

"Yeah, we each got three shots with a rifle," informed Clem.

"She got four for some reason," noted Matt.

"She got four because she could actually shoot things," said Mick.

"Only because she got to do it while lying down," reasoned Matt.

"Byron told you lie down, you wouldn't listen," reminded Mick.

"Sarah, you didn't shoot anything did you?" asked Carlos, more than a little concerned.

"Yeah, I managed to hit the head on my last shot," she said proudly.

"The head of what?" asked a disturbed Carlos.

"Of the practice dummy," answered Sarah, a little intimidated by her father.

"To use children like this," Carlos mumbled to himself.

"Dad, how come you never wanted me to learn to use a gun?" asked Sarah.

"A good girl like you didn't need to know how to use a gun," assured Carlos.

"But why not?"

"Because, you didn't need to use one."

"But what if there was a lurker and I had to stop it?"

"I'd stop it," answered Carlos. "You don't need to worry about protecting yourself Sarah. I'll keep you safe."

"I'm not worried," assured Sarah.

"You know Carlos," said Christa. "She doesn't stop being a good girl just because she learned to protect herself."

"Believe me, they're not teaching any of you to use a gun so you can protect yourselves," stated Carlos.

"I don't care why they're doing it," commented Mick. "Beats work."

"You should care," said Walter. "Intent matters."

"Why?" shrugged Matt. "They already tell us what to do."

"It matters because someone's intent can tell you what they will do," explained Walter.

"They could be pretending they care about us because they want something," surmised Clementine in a bitter tone.

"I'm curious, what else are you learning in this class you go to?"

"Nothing really," said Mick. "Did more math. Some English. Then Gene went on about the Roman Empire for a while."

"He talked a lot about that Caesar guy," commented Matt. "Dude sounded OG."

"So he taught you about one history's most famous dictators?" asked Walter. "Anything else?"

"We played a game before we left," said Sarah.

"What kind of game?"

"It was this what if thing where if you rat on someone you get out of prison, unless they ratted on you to," explained Mick.

"Yeah, but if nobody told, they each only got one year in prison," explained Sarah.

"He taught you about the prisoner's dilemma?" concluded Walter.

"He asked each of us if we would tell or not," explained Clementine.

"Those two are the only ones dumb enough to say they wouldn't," Matt gestured to Sarah and Clem.

"So this man didn't actually explain the significance of this experiment?" asked Walter.

"What significance?" asked Mick. "It was just a game."

"The game demonstrates why rational people might not cooperate even if it may have been in their bests interests to do so," explained Walter. "The best outcome, going free, is only achieved by betraying someone who doesn't betray them, so, rationally, someone would be inclined to choose to do that.

But since it's the rational decision, then it's also likely the other person will also choose it, which means both people end up with a harsher punishment then if they had just remained silent instead. This goes back to what I was saying yesterday, that when we're willing to put ourselves at risk, we all benefit."

"Yeah, unless the other guy betrays you," reminded Mick. "Then they go free and you get nabbed."

"Well, that's the dilemma," said Walter. "To get the best result for everyone, not just yourself, you have to put yourself at the greatest risk, and hope someone else is willing to do the same. And as you said yesterday, people don't always help each other. And it's often not any kind of malice either, just a rational interest in protecting one's self that we all have. You both choose to betray right?" Mick and Matt nodded. "Why?"

"Because, the other person will probably pick it," said Mick. "And if they don't we go free. It, just makes sense."

"Yes, it does. But what if one of you was asked to betray the other?" asked Walter. "Would you do it?"

"Fuck no," answered Mick.

"No way I'm snitching on my bro," added Matt.

"You trust each other?" asked Walter.

"Hell yeah," said Matt.

"We wouldn't have gotten this far if we didn't," explained Mick.

"Exactly," said Walter with a smile. "You're stronger because that trust ensures there's at least one other person working with your best interest at heart, and you can accomplish more with two working to a mutual goal than just one."

"But I trust him because he's my brother," said Mick. "I really don't feel like trusting someone I don't know, especially since I ended up here."

"What if you did trust someone else, and they did help you?" asked Walter. "I won't dismiss the risk involved with trusting people you don't know. Obviously you've seen first hand what happens when people take advantage of your good intentions. But what if the gamble pays off? Then you would have another person looking after you, and your brother." Clementine smiled at Christa, who smiled back at her.

"Clementine, Sarah, they said you two chose to not speak against another person, despite the risk. Why not?" asked Walter.

"Well, I didn't want to get someone else in trouble because of me," said Sarah. "If I told and they didn't, they get punished way worse."

"I thought, if the other person didn't tell, then it means we could trust each other." Clementine couldn't help but look at Sarah as she said that.

"You're acting like if someone did one thing for you, you'd trust them forever," said Mick. "But it doesn't work like that. When shit hits the fan, people turn on each other."

"You're right, trust is a fragile bond, easily damaged or broken," conceded Walter. "There's actually another version of the prisoner's dilemma where it's an ongoing game, instead of a singular decision. And instead of years of a prison sentence, you're competing for the most points."

"How do you play?" asked Sarah.

"A group of people split into twos and decide in secret whenever to betray the other or not. Then everyone shows their answers and you change partners. Obviously we don't have the time to play it properly right now, but, just for a quick demonstration." Walter looked at Matt.

"Let's say you and I are playing. And we'd get three points for cooperating, one for betraying each other, and betraying someone who doesn't gets you five points and they get nothing. So, what would you do?" asked Walter.

"You're going up the river old man, I know you're a goody two shoes, so that's an easy five points," reasoned Matt.

"Let's say I didn't betray you and you did get five points." Walter turned to Christa. "Say you and Matt were playing now. What would you do?"

"Seeing as he just betrayed you, I'm not trusting him," answered Christa as she glared at Matt.

"Well I wouldn't trust you either," retorted Matt.

"So, mutual betrayal. That's a point each." Walter looked to Mick next. "You and I now. Would you betray me?"

"No," answered Mick.

"Wait, what?" asked Matt.

"Like you said, he's a goody two-shoes, he's not gonna betray me. It's a safe move," reasoned Mick.

"Yeah, but you get less points," said Matt.

"This round he did." Walter turned to Sarah. "If Mick was your player, would you betray him?"

"I guess not." Mick smirked at Sarah, but stopped when he saw Carlos glaring at him.

"What if it were Matt?" asked Walter.

"Well… I don't think I could trust him if he betrayed you and Christa," admitted Sarah.

"Oh bite me," commented Matt. "This game is stupid."

"I think I get it," said Matt. "This is you telling us everything's better if we get along, again? Right?"

"Well, it's better for everyone if everyone cooperated," answered Walter. "But if one person wants to get the most points, non-stop cooperation is a losing strategy because you'd be seen as exploitable by people wanting to get ahead. By contrast, non-stop betrayal is a failing strategy because no one will agree to cooperate with you, denying you any opportunities to ever succeed at betraying them." Matt crossed his arms.

"So, how do you win then?" asked Christa, curious to the answer.

"Well someone did a study once and discovered a couple of key elements to winning strategies. One important aspect is to always cooperate on the first turn. Apparently first impressions count for a lot, and if your first move is to betray someone, it tends to follow you through the rest of the game."

"He's talking about you." Mick nudged his brother, who just glared in response.

"The other thing he discovered was altruistic strategies did better than greedy ones. If people think you'll cooperate, then they're more likely to cooperate."

"But you said you'd lose if you only cooperate with people," reminded Clem.

"You likely would, but if people think you'd cooperate, it gives you more opportunities to betray them," explained Walter. "So like I said, it's in your own interests to help people, but not all the time, assuming you're only acting in your own interests."

"Hold up. Are you telling me this whole nice guy act you're pulling is just so you can get one over on us at some point?" wondered Mick in a suspicious voice.

"Well, speaking for just myself, I personally believe if we're going to move forward as a species, we have to be willing to trust each other. So, I'm willing to risk myself in helping people in hopes it'll make it easier for them to trust others. Which as I said, is better for all of us in the end," explained Walter.

"But if someone did want to take advantage of you, it'd be in their interests to make you believe they care about your interests first, because if you trusted them, it'd be easier for them to exploit you." Clem slumped over in her chair, wounded by Walter's words.

"One minute warning!" announced Maude as she stood up. "Finish your lunch, get your water, and get back to work." Groans followed Maude's announcement, mostly from the other members of the crew sitting around her. Clem made sure to get her water and returned her bowl to Cookie. Returning to the table, she saw Byron standing next to Sarah.

"You two are with me today," he explained to Clem. "We're going to do some basic gun maintenance."


	41. Only What You Have To

Clem and Sarah followed Byron as he led them past the pen and to the other side of the warehouse. There were several more cargo containers neatly arranged in rows of two, each with an added chimney, much like Cookie's kitchen had.

"That's where I used to live," Sarah whispered to Clem. "That red one on the end is where me and my dad used to sleep."

Byron approached Hector, who was standing in front of a shorter green container sitting apart from the rows of longer containers. Hector picked a key from his massive key ring and unlocked a pair of padlocks on the container. Byron stepped into the container and grabbed a broomstick leaning against the wall.

"Let me get the lights on before you lock it up." Byron took the broomstick and pushed a piece of metal off an opening cut into the ceiling. Watching from outside Clem could see a section of metal had been hinged to top of the container, like a hatch. She saw two more hatches swing open before Byron set the broomstick down. "All right, inside." Clem and Sarah stepped into the container. The door promptly closed behind them, followed by some metal clicking.

"He's locking us in?" asked a nervous Sarah.

"Since it's a pain for Hector to constantly unlock and relock the lockers, and Bill doesn't trust anyone but Hector or himself with keys, it's just easier to lock the whole room when someone is in here, " explained Byron. "Don't worry, Hector will let us out when we're done."

Looking around the dimly lit container, Clem could see three tables laid out against one wall, each covered in plastic. Planted against the back wall were a couple of tall lockers, and a short safe to the side of them. Byron opened one of the lockers and after inspecting each rifle he had on his back, placed them inside.

"What are we doing?" asked Clem.

"The three of us are going to clean some guns," explained Byron. "Now, you both remember rule number one of gun safety right?"

"The gun is always loaded," said Clementine.

"Good. Little subsection of that rule is anytime you pick up a gun that wasn't in your possession, you check to see if it's actually loaded." Byron sat down at one of the tables and picked up a small revolver that was sitting there. "For a revolver that's easy enough, just pop out the cylinder and look." Byron pressed a latch, allowing the cylinder to slide out. He held the gun at an angle where Clem and Sarah could see the chambers were all empty.

"Now you remember rule number two?" asked Byron.

"Don't point a gun something you don't want to kill," said Sarah.

"Right, so even when you're cleaning a gun keep the barrel pointed away from anything you don't want shot. Also remember rule three, make sure it's also not pointing at something that may have someone behind it either." Byron set the revolver down.

"For self-loading pistols, you need to be a little more careful." Byron removed his own gun from his holster. "Remove the magazine first." Byron pressed the release and the magazine slid into his hand, which he set on the table. "Then pull the slide back to eject the round in the chamber if there is one." Byron pulled on the top of the gun, causing it to eject a single bullet. "Then, look into the breach to be sure beyond any doubt the gun is in fact unloaded." Byron angled his pistol so Sarah and Clementine could see there was no bullet inside. "Got it?" Clem and Sarah nodded.

"All right." Byron loaded the single bullet back into the magazine, reloaded the gun and placed it back in the holster. "Now, knowing what I just told you. I want you to inspect these two guns." Byron placed a pair of pistols on the table. Clem recognized them both. The revolver used to be Pete's, and other gun used to be hers.

"They're unloaded." Clem couldn't help but think Byron almost sounded sarcastic when he said the world unloaded. "But remembering rule one, you're to treat them if they were loaded when handling them. Double check to see if they're empty while I get the cleaning supplies." Byron took the smaller revolver and headed for the lockers. Sarah reluctantly picked up Pete's gun while Clem took her own.

Clem slid the magazine out, which was empty, then pulled on the slide like Byron said. A single bullet bounced onto the table. Clem eyed it in surprise, then looked over to Byron. He was still looking through the locker for something. Looking back to the lone bullet, Clem felt an odd urge to just pocket it before Byron turned around.

"Mr. Byron." Turning her head, Clem noticed Sarah was also looking at the bullet. "I think there was still a bullet in this gun." Byron spun around in a hurry and set the toolbox he was holding on the table. He picked up the bullet and looked right at Clementine.

"Any reason she noticed this before you did?" asked Byron.

"I noticed it, it just… surprised me. And she said something before I could." Byron's eyes narrowed as he pocketed the bullet.

"Speak up next time," instructed Byron as he sat down between Clem and Sarah. "And that demonstrates the importance of rule number one." Byron took the pistol Clem was holding and checked it again to see if it was loaded. Then set it down and looked at the revolver Sarah was holding.

"All right, before we can clean a gun, we need to disassemble it." Byron picked up Clem's gun. "Good thing about Glocks is they're easy to take apart. With them, when you're sure the gun isn't loaded, you pull the trigger." Byron pulled the trigger. Much to Clem's surprise, the trigger didn't spring back into position.

"Now, pull down on these." Byron gestured to a pair of tabs just above the trigger. Clem grabbed them and slid them towards the trigger. "Now, take the slide, wiggle it back ever so slightly, then try to pull it forward." Clem tugged on the top of the gun a little until she heard a slight click, then pushed it forward, taking off the entire top of the gun.

"Wow, I didn't know it could do that," awed Clem as she looked at the two halves of the gun. Byron took the slide and turned it over.

"You've got the spring." Byron removed a large spring from the slide. "Then the barrel." Byron removed a black metal tube that was angular at one end and looked into it with a flashlight. "I'm guessing this has never been cleaned."

"I didn't know you had to clean guns," said Clementine.

"Me neither," said Sarah.

"Neither did most everyone at this place before I got here," explained Byron as he arranged the pieces of the gun on the table so that the parts that needed to be connected were sitting next to each other. "And the ones who did weren't any good at it." Byron took the revolver in front of Sarah

"Mick said you know a lot about guns because you were a solider," said Sarah. "Is that true?"

"I'm not a solider. I wouldn't even have been old enough to join the army until about a month before everything went to shit. But my dad owned a gun shop, and I ended up stuck working there after school, a lot. Not that the old bastard ever paid me for any of my work," groused Byron as he took a screwdriver from his vest. "Hard pressed to say that experience isn't coming in handy now. It got me out of the pen for about a week."

"A week?" asked Clem. "I thought you were out of the pen for good?"

"I am, I guess. But not because I'm the resident gunsmith," explained Byron as he disassembled the revolver's grip. "When I got done, fixing, cleaning, and lubricating their armory, I was given a choice. I could join the crew, or go back to pen."

"Even after you fixed all their guns?" asked Sarah in disbelief.

"Now that they were 'fixed', Bill figured they didn't need me on a regular basis, unless I could build them bullets. I told him even if had the powder and primers I wouldn't know where to start. So, as a counter off, he said I could work with his cadre of scavengers. I didn't like the idea of going back to the pen, so I took the job." Byron detached the revolver's cylinder.

"So, now you kill people for Bill?" asked Clementine in a bitter voice.

"I do what I have to," retorted Byron in a sharp tone. "And I've never killed anyone I don't have to."

"You had to kill Pete?" Byron glared at Clementine.

"Yes," answered Byron in a certain voice. "He went for George's gun, I had to stop him."

"You had to?" asked a dubious Clementine.

"Yes, in the same way you have to do what the rest of the crew tells you to do," explained Byron. "You disobey them and they'll work you harder and feed you less, if anything. It's no different for me just because I'm out of the pen, especially since they could always throw me back in there. If Pete wanted to live, he shouldn't have tried to shoot George right in front of me."

"Then why didn't you kill me?" Sarah's question halted Byron's hand as he was turning a screw. "I aimed a gun at George, but…"

"I know what happened. I was there." Sarah flinched as Byron raised his voice.

"Don't yell at her just for asking a question." Byron sighed in response to Clementine's scolding.

"What do you expect me to say to something like that?" Byron asked Sarah. "I didn't want to shoot a terrified teenage girl who clearly had no idea what she was doing."

"But you would, if you had to?" asked Clem, less angry now. Byron took a breath.

"If it came to that, yes," answered a dispirited Byron. "I guess that makes me a monster." Byron removed the revolver's side plate.

"Now, cleaning a gun isn't all that complicated once you've got it apart." Byron removed a pair small long tools from the toolbox. Clem couldn't help but think they looked like miniature toilet brushes. "This if your bore brush. It's what scrubs the barrel of the gun, so to speak." Byron laid them on the table. "And these are patch holders." Byron laid out a few long plastic tools that looked a lot like big sewing needles.

"Now, we thread this with a patch." Byron pulled a small piece of fabric out of the tool box. He pulled the fabric through the small hole at the end of the tool. "Then, we douse it with some solvent, that's your cleaner." Byron picked up a squirt bottle and lightly sprayed the fabric patch. "Then, you push this into the barrel and pull it out." Byron demonstrated with the disassembled barrel from Clem's gun. When the tool came back out, the fabric was covered in filth.

"Eww," said Sarah as she looked at the dirty cloth.

"Eww indeed," said Byron. "Too much build up and it'll affect the accuracy, lead to jamming, misfires, could even explode in your hand."

"Really?" asked a frightened Clementine

"Possibly, eventually, but it'd have to be in very poor condition for that to happen. Probably years upon years of heavy use and total neglect," assured Byron. "This one is fine it just needs some routine maintenance." Byron grabbed one of the bore brushes.

"We put a tiny bit of solvent on the brush and push it through the barrel until it comes out the other end." Clem watched as the brush end popped out of the barrel. "Then pull it straight out, but only after it comes out the other end. You do that while it's in the barrel and you may bend the brush." Byron pulled the brush out and handed it and the barrel to Clementine. "Do that about five times, then get a fresh patch, apply a bit of solvent, start over. And you keep doing that until the patch comes out clean."

Clementine pushed the brush through the barrel and then pulled it out. "If you're in a rush or you don't have a brush you can try to get by with just pushing some solvent soaked rags through the barrel." Byron threaded the other tool, doused it with the solvent, and handed it to Sarah. "And with a revolver you need to do the chambers as well, but I'll handle that to save time." Byron moved the revolver's cylinder to right in front of himself and grabbed another patch holder from the box.

"What if I mess up?" asked a nervous Sarah. "Is there any extra patches?" Byron grabbed a handful of cut up fabric and dropped it onto the table. "Oh."

"You can make patches out anything clean really," explained Byron as he threaded his holder. "I've been mostly cutting up t-shirts." Clementine and Sarah started cleaning the gun barrels as best as they could while Byron watched them, leading to an awkward silence. Somewhere around her time of swabbing the barrel with a patch, Sarah spoke up.

"So, do you not feel bad at all about killing Pete?" she asked in a timid voice.

"Like I said, he shouldn't have gone for George's gun," repeated Byron.

"You did it because you thought something worse would happen if you didn't," rationalized Sarah. "But, do you feel bad that you had to do that?"

"I didn't want to kill him if that's what you're asking," answered Byron. "I was just doing what I had to. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"What about George?" asked Clementine. "Or Consuelo? Do they enjoy it?"

"I won't defend a monster like George, or filth like Consuelo, but we're not all like that," argued Byron. "Some of us would like to be decent people again, someday."

"Which ones?" asked Clementine.

"Huh?"

"Which people here want to be good?" clarified Clementine. "So we know which ones don't want to hurt us."

"Hmm, well, there's me," noted Byron. "And I don't want to hurt either of you if I don't have to."

"Why would you have to?" asked a worried Sarah.

"Just saying, if you did something wrong, I might not have a choice." Clementine couldn't help but notice Byron was looking in her direction when he said that. "So, just follow the rules and be careful."

"What about the others?" asked Clem.

"Well, on the crew. You've got Maude. She's a total tight ass. There's Lloyd. Older guy, I don't know him that well but he's usually friendly. Harry, he keeps to himself. Richard, who's nickname is appropriately Dick, because that's what he is. Don't say anything to him, it'll just make him more of an annoying asshole. Tom's a good guy, or as much as you can be in a place like this. Then you've got Consuelo," recounted Byron in a bitter voice.

"She's a cunt," noted Clementine.

"Clementine," scolded Sarah.

"No, that describes her perfectly," assured Byron. "She's a fucking moron too."

"Why is she even on the crew then?" asked Clementine.

"She's Bill's pet," answered Byron.

"Pet?" asked a confused Clementine.

"Like, a dog?" asked Sarah.

"I wouldn't insult dogs by comparing them to Consuelo," smirked Byron. "Basically, Bill likes to keep her around, so we all have to suffer for it. Shame you shot her thumb instead of her head."

"You… you don't mean that do you?" asked Sarah.

"I wouldn't lose any sleep if she died," shrugged Byron. "Moving off the crew, we got Gertrude and her daughter."

"We already met them," said Clem.

"How such a nice woman raised such an annoying brat I'll never know," said Byron. "There's Ed, our mechanic. Lauren, she stays in her greenhouse. Cookie, the… cook. Real nice guy. Hector, who literally has the keys to this place. He keeps inventory and schedules. And there's Gene, who is Bill's advisor or something. Never quite sure what he does, but he seems to be in charge when Bill's not around."

"What about that guy who pushes the food cart?" asked Clem.

"Oh right, Edmund. Forgot about him," said Byron.

"Mick says he's told on people to get out of the pen," said Sarah.

"Tom told me he still does that, and not just for people in the pen," added Byron. "So, don't say anything in front of him you don't want Bill to hear."

"If everyone knows he's a tattletale, how does he ever get anyone to tell him anything?" Byron shrugged at Clementine.

"That's his problem. Tom told me in the early days, before I was here, Bill used to depend on Maude to keep tabs on everyone. Then everyone got wise to her and she had to join the crew to keep out of the pen."

"And what about George?" asked Clem in a quieter voice.

"Stay away from him," answered Byron.

"I will," nodded Clementine.

"He scares me," said Sarah.

"He scares everyone," said Byron. "It's like what he does. I think that's why Bill keeps him around. Just so people will think twice before breaking the rules."

"Are you scared of George?" asked Sarah.

"Damn right I am," answered Byron. "Anyone who says they're not is either stupid or lying."

"Which one would Bill be?" asked Clem.

"He'd be lying," answered Byron in a quiet voice. "Only one who ever had the nerve to stand up to George at all was Pete. And we all saw how that ended."

"Maybe if you hadn't helped George, it would've ended differently," accused Clementine.

"Well maybe if Pete had stayed here where we needed him instead of leaving us with the likes of George, I would have been in a position to help him," retorted an annoyed Byron. "I use to think he actually cared about us, or at least some of us. When he led supply runs it seemed like he actually wanted to get us back alive. But I guess his stupid nephew was more important than all of us."

"You don't like Nick?" asked Sarah.

"Nope," answered Byron without hesitation.

"Is it because of that man he killed?" asked Clem. "Because Nick only shot him because he was stepping on my neck, trying to kill me." Both Sarah and Byron turned to Clem, stunned by what she said.

"Greg did that to you?" Clem nodded. "Well, good riddance to that piece of shit then," scoffed Byron without a hint of sympathy. "But no, I don't give a fuck he killed Greg. What annoys me about him is that I had to join the crew to get out of the pen, he got to stay out because he was Pete's nephew. He never risked his ass on supply runs like I did, just because of who he was related to."

"Just like me." Byron looked at Sarah and noticed the guilty look on her face.

"Well that's different, you're, how old?"

"Thirteen," answered Sarah.

"Nick's older than me, he could handle the supply runs."

"What if he couldn't?" asked Clementine. "Pete said Nick hates going near walkers."

"I don't exactly like to get close to them myself," said Byron.

"Maybe Pete was just trying to protect Nick," suggested Sarah. "When my dad had to go with Nick to do something, he stayed with me until they go back, and told me I didn't have to be scared because he'd protect me. Maybe he felt that way about Nick too."

"Wish he had felt that way about the rest of us," grumbled Byron.

"Maybe he did, but he just couldn't protect everyone?" suggested Clementine.

"Maybe," said Byron in a quiet voice. "He was the one who brought that one-eyed kid here. And he always seemed worried about him."

"Pete found Adam?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, he was covered in filth from head to toe when he brought him here, acted more like a wild animal than a person. Gene spent some time with him and got the kid talking again, and then he wound up in the pen," lamented Byron. "That never set right with Pete."

"Does it set right with you?" asked Clem, sincere in her question.

"No," answered Byron. "I still feel like I'm too young for this shit, let along people half my age. I could tell that Adam kid didn't want to go near the gun and I told him to anyways, and I felt like a damn pedophile when I had to search you for weapons."

"A pedophile?" repeated a confused Sarah.

"What's that?" asked Clem.

"It just means… people who don't treat kids right."

"That's a lot of people now…" Byron examined the barrel Clementine had been cleaning and the revolver Sarah was holding.

"All right, that should be enough. We can move onto the rest now." Byron removed a couple of toothbrushes from the toolbox.

"Cleaning the other parts of the gun is simpler. Just apply your solvent and brush any moving parts. Wipe them down with a rag and repeat until clean." Byron sprayed the toothbrushes with the cleaning solution, then handed the brushes to Clem and Sarah, taking a moment to point where they should clean.

"Are you really Carlos's daughter?" asked Byron.

"Yeah, why?"

"I always just figured you were a myth or something," said Byron. "I'd occasionally hear about you, but I'd never see you."

"I had to stay in my room," said Sarah.

"Twenty-four seven?" Sarah nodded. "Damn. That had to be hard."

"Well, it was okay I guess," shrugged Sarah. "My dad did bring me new books every week, so, that was nice."

"Those were for you?" asked Byron. "I always thought that guy was spending his allowance on books because he was bored or something."

"Allowance?" asked Sarah.

"Everybody, or I guess almost everybody outside the pen, gets a weekly allowance where they get to pick a few items they want from the warehouse," explained Byron. "People mostly opt for a couple of extra cans of food, but Tom likes to get cigarettes occasionally and he told me Maude has gone for Vodka more than once. Guess even she has trouble being around herself sometimes." Clem watched as Sarah started looking down at her jacket.

"Can you get clothes with your allowance?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, first time I got mine I opted for a new outfit, if just because my old clothes were so filthy and torn up," explained Byron. "Let me ask you both something. None of the crew have offered to give you any food? Right?"

"No," said Sarah.

"Why do you want to know?" asked a suspicious Clem.

"Just telling you now, if they do, don't take it," explained Byron.

"Why not?" asked Clem.

"Will we get into trouble?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, we're not suppose to give things to people in the pen," explained Byron. "Takes away their motivation to do better, or some shit like that."

"Then why would anyone ever give us food?" asked Clem. "If they knew they'd get in trouble?"

"Well…" Byron took a deep breath. "We can still trade with people in the pen."

"Trade for what?" asked Sarah.

"All I got is my backpack, some drawings and my hat," listed Clementine.

"They wouldn't want any of that," remarked Byron in a glib tone.

"What then?" asked Sarah.

"There was a woman we saw on the first day, who said she'd do anything if she got some food," said Clem. "But nobody would give her anything. What do you have to get more food?"

"It's nothing either of you want to do, trust me," answered a concerned Byron.

"But what is it?" asked Sarah.

"It's…" Byron sighed. "Look, you were asking me if I'd kill or hurt one of you if they made me. Just think about that If someone says they can get you food. It's only because they want you to do something bad, okay?"

"Okay," nodded Sarah.

"I doubt anyone is going to ask either of you," reassured Byron.

"Because we're both young?" asked Clem.

"Yeah." Byron removed a couple of larger rags from the box. "All right, that should be enough. Now just wipe down the whole thing real good. You want get all the cleaner off. After that I'll grease them and put them back together." Clementine and Sarah each took a rag and started wiping the pieces down.

"Um, Byron," said Sarah.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think you're a monster."

"Really?" asked Byron, sounding unconvinced.

"It was terrible that you shot Pete, but, I get that it wasn't because you're a terrible person and… Thanks for not shooting me," said Sarah in an emotional voice.

"You shouldn't have to thank people for that," mused a weary Byron.

"Well, thanks for getting my hat back," said Clem.

"Your hat?"

"Consuelo threw it away, but you picked it up," reminded Clem.

"I was just doing what Tom said. He said take the new people and their things to Bill, and that hat belonged to you."

"I don't think some of the other people here would have done that," reasoned Clem.

"Maybe…" shrugged Byron.

"So thanks," said Clem.

"Well, you're welcome, I guess." Byron shrugged and removed a tube from the toolbox. "So, last thing you should do is lubricate a couple of key moving parts." Clem watched as Byron took the slide and applied a tiny amount of grease from the tube on a couple of spots. "It's like greasing a squeaky wheel. But you only want to use a tiny bit, any more and it'll attract dirt and dust and actually gunk things up." Clem watched Byron grease a few other parts of the gun before setting the tube down.

"All that's left now is putting it back together." Byron looked at Clem. "Give it a try."

"Me?"

"Like I said, Glocks are easy to take apart. Just put the pieces back the way you saw earlier." Clem looked at the disassembled gun. "If you miss anything I'll let you know." She took the slide first and flipped it upside down. Then she took the barrel and slid it back inside the slide. The spring was difficult, requiring a lot effort to push into place. After that Clem took the completed slide and looked at Byron.

"That's right." Clem picked up the lower half of the gun and slid the upper half back onto it. "Like I said, easy."

"Yeah," noted Clem as she looked at the completed gun again.

"You want to try screwing that revolver back together?" Sarah looked at the disassembled gun.

"Um, will you help me if I get stuck?"

"Sure," Byron handed Sarah a screwdriver. "Let me grease it and you can get right to it." Byron took the grease tube and started working. "You should go head and cycle that pistol a few times."

"Cycle?" asked Clem.

"Pull the trigger, pull the slide," explained Byron. "Do that a few times to spread the grease around." Clem pull the trigger, then pulled the slide back. Each time she did it she felt a tinge of pride in understanding her weapon a little better. Then it dawned on her it wasn't hers anymore.

"I wish I could keep it," admitted Clem.

"That's not happening," assured Byron in a droll tone.

"I know, this gun use to belong to someone special," said Clem. "I guess you think that's stupid."

"Actually, I used to lug around an old bolt action rifle just because it use to belong to my father," admitted Byron.

"But you don't anymore?" asked Sarah.

"Lost it," said Byron. "Someone shot out the scope while I was trying to shoot them. Nothing short of a miracle that same shot didn't also take off my head. Not that things got any better after that. Shit went so wrong that night," Byron mumbled to himself.

"Did that happen when you came here?" asked Sarah.

"No, this was a while back with different group of people. They're long gone now."

"They died?" asked Clementine.

"Some of them. I actually don't know what happened to all of them." Byron paused, as if he was lost in thought. "Either of you ever meet a woman named Lana?"

"No." Byron turned to Sarah, who just shook her head. "Didn't think so."

"Sorry," said Sarah.

"It's fine, it's ancient history now."

"Is there anyone else you want to find?"

"Well, not sure if I want to find her after what happened, but, did either of you ever meet an Alice?"

"No, sorry," said Sarah.

"Wait, Matthew said he meet a woman named Alice."

"Mick's annoying brother said he saw Alice?" asked Byron in disbelief.

"No, different Matt. This one was staying with Walter at the lodge when you attacked us."

"That guy on the bridge," Byron whispered to himself. "What did he say?"

"He said she was a big lady with red hair who came by a month ago. And I think her name was Alice Underwood." Byron's eyes widened in shock. "You knew her?"

"Yeah… I knew her," said Byron in a quiet voice. "Did this Matthew guy say anything else?"

"Just that she and the girl she was with looked like they had a hard time."

"Girl?"

"The name on the wall said Annabelle." Clem watched as Byron slumped over in his seat, a stunned look frozen on his face.

"Holy fuck," he whispered. "She actually found her."


	42. Missed Connections

Clem marched with Sarah back towards the entrance to the pen, the walls of yard casting long shadows over everything in the waning daylight. Byron followed right behind them. He had guided the girls through cleaning some larger guns and explained different ammo types and sizes, but otherwise had been mostly quiet, as if constantly lost in thought.

Nearing the pen, Clem noticed a thin older man with gray hair standing watch.

"Hey Lloyd," called Byron.

"Byron." Clem was surprised to hear the man had such a high pitched voice.

"Is there a, Walter was it?" Clem nodded at Byron. "Yeah, Walter in there?"

"Nah, I think he's still with that pregnant lady and Hector in the warehouse," informed Lloyd as he stood up. "You want me to call and check?"

"No, I'll just go check myself." Byron left Sarah and Clem with Lloyd.

"All right, stay away from the door y'all," instructed Lloyd in a friendly voice. "Arms out darling." Sarah shuddered as Lloyd frisked her. "You're good, go on in." Clem noticed Lloyd's smile grew wider as she stepped in front of her.

"Aren't you just the most precious little thing," said Lloyd in a sweet voice. Clem held her arms out, and felt her skin crawl as Lloyd's hands moved down her sides. She didn't like strangers touching her, and Lloyd seemed to have an oddly firm grip. Clem breathed a sigh of relief as Lloyd finally reached her ankles and let go of her.

"My girl, you're nothing but skin and bones," observed Lloyd, sounding worried for Clem.

"Well maybe you should feed us more," quipped Clem.

"I could get something for you if you're hungry," suggested Lloyd with smile.

"Really?" asked Clem. "Wait, would I have kill someone, or hurt someone first?"

"Of course not," assured Lloyd. "Wouldn't have to hurt no one darling." Clem thought about Lloyd's proposal.

"Um, I'm okay," assured a nervous Clem.

"Well, if you change your mind, just ask for Lloyd." Clem stepped into the pen. Mick and Matt were talking in the corner, while Nick was sitting alone in the opposite corner. Clem decided to move towards where Sarah was sitting near her father.

"I want you to stay away from those boys," Carlos told Sarah.

"But why?" asked Sarah. "Mick likes me."

"I just want you to stay away from them," repeated Carlos.

"You said same thing about Clementine," argued Sarah. "And now she's my best friend." Even though Clem knew there wasn't much competition for that title, she couldn't stop herself from smiling upon hearing the words 'best friend'.

"Well…" Carlos tried to think of a rationale. "I didn't know Clementine then. Now I do and know she treats you right. I don't want you going near those boys until I know they'll do the same." Clem found it odd to hear Carlos say something good about her, and even odder it made Clem feel a little better.

"Away from the door everybody." Clem looked over to see Lloyd searching Christa. She looked annoyed, but soon smiled as she saw Clem waiting for her inside.

"How you doing today sweetie?" asked Christa as she sat down.

"Good," answered Clem with a smile.

"Good?" asked Christa in surprise.

"Well, you know, as good as I can be right now," explained Clem.

"Glad to hear it." Christa put her arm around Clem.

"What about you?"

"I'm fine. Sorting crap in there is tedious, but it's not hard," assured Christa. "All though, someone pulled Walter aside on our way back."

"Was it a blonde guy?" asked Clem.

"Yeah, you know him?" asked Christa.

"That's Byron. He was showing us how to clean guns," explained Clem. "Walter may have met someone he used to know. He probably wanted to ask him about it."

"He's pretty nice," added Sarah.

"Nice?" asked Carlos in disbelief. "Sarah, that man pointed a gun at you."

"I know that," said Sarah. "But he didn't shoot me."

"And that makes him nice?" asked Carlos in frustration.

"Well, no," conceded Sarah. "But he was nice to me today, and wasn't he one of the people bringing me food before?"

"What?" asked Carlos.

"When I lived here before," clarified Sarah. "He was one of the people who went out looking for food wasn't he? So that means he was helping to feed me when I lived here."

"He was helping to feed himself, he didn't go out looking for food just for you Sarah," explained Carlos. "George has brought back food. He took Walter's food. Does that make him nice?"

"No. But Byron's not like George," argued Sarah.

"He doesn't have to be," said Carlos. "As long as he's doing what Carver tells him, he's dangerous."

"But why?" asked Sarah. "Wasn't Mr. Carver in charge when I lived here before?"

"Yes but…" Carlos thought to himself. "He changed sweetheart. That's why it wasn't safe and we had to leave before. And that's why you have to be careful now, because anyone doing what Carver says is dangerous, including Byron. Don't forget, he killed Pete to protect George."

"Wait, what?" Nick stood up and approached Carlos. "Did you just say that skinny bitch Byron shot Pete? Not George?"

"When Pete took his gun back from George," explained Carlos.

"I'll kill that skinny bitch," growled Nick. "I'll choke him next time we're alone."

"What?" exclaimed Sarah. "Don't do that!"

"At least not until after tomorrow," suggested Mick. "Me and Matt want our turn in the armory before he dies."

"Nick, calm down," suggested Christa.

"Calm down?" asked an infuriated Nick. "You expect me to just be calm around the fucker who shot Pete?" Christa just stared at Nick.

"Me and her had to learn to keep calm around you," noted Christa in a bitter tone.

"That was different," argued Nick.

"Not to me it wasn't," retorted Christa.

"Please don't fight again," insisted Clementine, dreading another argument. "Things always get worse when you fight."

"She's right, drop it," demanded Carlos. "Carver is responsible for our problems. Don't lose sight of that."

"Whatever," said Nick. "I get a chance, I'm taking care of that Byron asshole."

"Away from the door y'all." Everyone watched as Walter entered the pen. Looking at the gate, Clem noticed Byron walking away in the distance.

"Walter, everything okay?" Walter appeared shaken. Slowly he sat down on one of the beds. "Walter, what happened?" asked Christa.

"That man…"

"Byron," informed Clementine.

"Yes, he was asking about the last visitors Matthew and I entertained, before your group arrived," explained Walter in an anxious voice.

"And?" asked Christa, impatient for an answer.

"I asked him about Matthew." Everyone leaned in closer as Walter collected himself.

"What did he say?" growled an angry Nick.

"He said Consuelo faked being wounded to get Matthew's attention. They ambushed him and tied his hands, but Matthew ran off into the forest before they could call for the others. Byron said he chased after him, but lost him in the darkness, and they couldn't risk shooting him because the noise would let the rest of us know they were about to attack." Walter looked up at the group. "That means Matthew is still out there."


	43. The Ensigns of Command

"But we're not even growing potatoes yet," whined Bridget. "Why should we care about what happened to some stupid farmers over a hundred years ago?"

"Why should we care about anything that happened before the creeps showed up?" added Matt. "None of that stuff matters now."

"Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it," lectured Gene. "That's not just a clever quote, you can avoid a lot of problems if you take the time to learn from other people's trials and tribulations. On the most personal level, this if your parents or family, or teacher even, telling you things they learned so you don't have to learn them the hard way. Looking at history as a whole, it can help you to gain perspective on the world"

"So what perspective are we getting here?" asked Mick. "Don't grow potatoes in Ireland?"

"We're talking about the Great Potato Famine today because it demonstrates just how massive an impact food has on us all. Food is a basic need we all have, and if it can't be satisfied, society breaks down, as some of you may have seen outside these walls."

"Things can go wrong even if you have food," argued Clem. "People fight over other things too."

"Yes, but not until they've eaten," said Gene. "You don't worry about other problems until your most basic needs are satisfied first."

"Mr. Spiegel, come in." Gene grabbed his radio.

"Go head Maude," answered Gene.

"Byron is here," reported Maude. "He claims you instructed him to bring the man named Walter here."

"That's right," said Gene. "Send them in." Clem watched as the doors swung open. A confused Walter walked into the class room, Byron following right behind him.

"Good morning," greeted Gene. "I'm Eugene Spiegal."

"Walter DeWitt." Walter shook Gene's hand. "I'm guessing this is the class I've been hearing about."

"I've heard a little about you as well," noted Gene. "Clementine said you use to be a teacher."

"Is that why I'm here?" asked Walter. "You want me to teach a class?"

"Actually I've been told you're not happy with the way we run things," said Gene. "And I thought it might be informative to the class if I address some of your concerns right here today."

"You're here to address my concerns?" asked a dubious Walter.

"From what I've heard, you sound like a civil man. I figured a frank conversation might help ease your mind a little." Gene turned to the class. "And seeing as some of them might share your concerns, I thought it would be productive to let them participate in this conversation."

"And if I say no?" asked Walter.

"Well, Byron can take you back to do regular work." Walter stared at Gene, assessing the man. "Well, would you like to talk about some of your issues you have with staying here?"

"I think I would," answered Walter. "Let's start with the fact I'm staying here at all."

"You want to leave?" assumed Gene.

"Yes, and it's absurd that I can't."

"You do realize just how dangerous the world is now?"

"Are you suggesting you won't let me leave purely for my own benefit?"

"Well these are very dire times. I can't predict the future, but you likely would be better in here than out there."

"You are…" Gene turned to Adam.

"You want to say something Adam?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Better in here…" he mumbled to himself.

"This poor boy was practically starving when we first found him," explained Gene. "Just in his short time here I've seen him do much better living with us."

"For the sake of argument, let's say you're right, and that I am in fact better off remaining here," said Walter. "What if I wanted to leave anyways?"

"Yeah?" added Matt.

"I'm afraid we just can't let people leave as they wish," consoled Gene.

"Does that include you?" asked Walter.

"Yes."

"So, we're all prisoners."

"This is not a prison."

"We're being forced to stay somewhere against our will, that sounds like we're being held prisoner to me."

"Prisons are meant to punish people," reminded Gene.

"Uh, you do punish us," reminded an annoyed Mick.

"There are punishments for misdeeds, like any society would have," argued Gene. "You are not however being kept here because you're being punished."

"Then why are we being kept here?" asked Walter. "I don't believe it's just because you care so deeply about our safety."

"Well no, it's also for the protection of everyone else," explained Gene. "When I first came here, people were allowed to leave. One day, one of them came back, with five others, hoping to take everything we had."

"When… when was this?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"Some time in the late summer," answered Gene. "We stopped them, but only after they killed two people themselves."

"So we can't leave because we may later commit a crime against you," surmised Walter. "That sounds like we're being punished for what we may do."

"I don't see it as punishment so much as a precaution," argued Gene. "Like I said, these are dire times. We have to be careful."

"Then why do you come after people then?" asked Walter. "In case you didn't know, I was brought here against my will after being attacked despite never raising a hand against any of you."

"Again, it's precaution to protect ourselves," explained Gene. "Our crew used to employ a live and let live policy when meeting outsiders. But we had to abandon it when people started following our crew back here hoping for any easy target to attack. Others lied in wait hoping to kill and rob our people, or steal our trucks."

"So you attack them first so they won't attack you?" surmised Walter.

"Again, these are dire times and we have to be very careful to survive," reminded Gene.

"Again, sounds like you're preemptively punishing people for crimes they may commit," repeated Walter. "Which would make this place a prison."

"We're building a community here," insisted Gene. "I don't think most prisons do that."

"The nicest prison is still a prison," retorted Walter.

"The world's nicest prison might be the best chance for the human race right now," argued an irritated Gene. "That's why we strive to bring people back alive."

"And I was thinking you wanted people alive for free labor."

"People mean more to us than labor, and it's hardly free when we're feeding people."

"Only as long as they can work, from what I've seen."

"Another unfortunate byproduct of our situation," reasoned Gene. "We simply don't have enough to feed everyone as much as we like, so, we've have be selective in who receives how much food."

"Bill seems like he wanted us to know he has plenty," commented Walter. "Making sure we saw the inside of your warehouse our first night here."

"We have plenty now, but that won't last us forever," stated Gene. "It might take us years before we're able to farm on a scale big enough to feed everyone. So it's important we conserve our resources to avoid a future famine."

"At the cost of starving anyone who can't contribute to your satisfaction?"

"It's not our intention to starve anyone, but people who don't contribute as much don't receive as much. It's simple economics."

"Simple economics is your justification for murder?" asked a bitter Walter.

"No one has been murdered here," refuted Gene.

"What about Felicity?" asked Walter. "I assume she's dead since we haven't seen her in two days, and last we did she was sick and hungry. But not hungry enough to just drop dead, since no one is allowed to leave, ever, I can only assume someone killed her because she couldn't work anymore."

"That's absurd," retorted Gene. "Felicity was working outside the wall and was killed by a lurker. A tragic accident, of course, but not murder."

"You saw this happen?" asked Walter.

"No, I…"

"So you don't know then?"

"We don't just kill people."

"Yes you do," accused Clementine. "Consuelo and Greg tried to kill me."

"What happens out there stays out there," recited Gene. "In here, anyone working is treated fairly."

"That why anyone who's falling behind in the pen has to work outside the wall?" asked an annoyed Mick. "Where all these 'accidents' always happen. Where it'll stay out there."

"The hard truth is someone falling behind likely isn't going to survive," refuted Gene. "It may sound harsh, but these are harsh times. Not everyone is going to make it through this crisis, and we simply can't save everyone."

"So, when Christa has her baby, and it can't keep up, I guess we won't save it then," concluded Walter in a vicious tone.

"What?" asked a confused Sarah. "You want her baby to die?"

"Of course not," answered Walter. "I'm just trying to understand this system that's supposedly the best chance for humanity."

"We are not going to let a baby die," Gene said right to Sarah. "That's absurd."

"Why?" asked Walter.

"Because it is," answered Gene.

"Why?" repeated Walter.

"I won't even humor such a ridiculous question."

"By all means, humor me," insisted Walter. "Because I don't believe for a second this place is willing to care for a baby."

"Of course we will care for a baby," answered an annoyed Gene.

"That's a commitment of years of time, attention and resources for someone who will literally contribute nothing during that entire time."

"It's a baby, how could it possibly contribute?"

"It can't, so why are you telling me this place will care for one?"

"Because we will."

"So, Shaffer's is willing to commit years to raising a newborn? But you can't give a sick woman, who you kept here against her will, a single day to rest or a morsel to eat?" surmised a disgusted Walter.

"That's different," argued Gene. "The baby can't help its self."

"How old would it have to be before it was old enough?" asked Walter. "Clearly, no older than nine years old, at the very oldest." Walter gestured to Clementine. "Are you going to feed a child for nine years and then, if it doesn't contribute enough, let it starve to death?"

"Of course not," refuted Gene.

"But you would," assumed Clementine. "If I don't do what you say, you'll stop feeding me, right?"

"You maybe would miss a meal if you didn't cooperate, but we would never stop feeding children out right," assured Gene.

"You should," groused an annoyed Bridget.

"Bridget, quiet," scolded Gene.

"I thought you wanted them to be a part of the conversation," repeated Walter. "Bridget, do you think we should feed children who can't contribute?"

"I think all you moochers eat enough of my Mom's eggs as it is," commented Bridget.

"Bridget," scolded Gene.

"It's true," she retorted. "Remember on the farm when it was just you, me, mom and Lauren? We had a lot more to eat then. Then we move to this place and now we gotta share everything with all these losers who don't do anything."

"And just what the fuck do you do around here?" Mick asked Bridget.

"I help take care of the chickens that feed you, asshole!" snarled Bridget.

"Oh yeah, so did me and Matt yesterday!" retorted Mick. "Fucking easy as hell compared to wheeling fucking water and wood around for you stuck-up pricks!"

"Mick, Bridget, stop."

"For that matter, what the fuck do you do around here?" Mick asked Gene.

"I'm your teacher," answered an annoyed Gene. "And I don't appreciate you talking to me like that."

"You started being my teacher a few days ago," noted Mick. "What the hell were you doing all those months me and him were toting shit on our backs?"

"Fuck you and your loser brother," snapped Bridget. "Gene's smarter than you morons!"

"If he's so smart, how come we usually have to bring you guys your wood and water?" asked Matt. "If you're so smart, why don't you get it yourself?

"All right, if you all can't remain civil, then we can't continue this discussion," concluded Gene. "Clearly this was a mistake."

"Yes, clearly you were terribly unprepared to discuss this topic," noted a smug Walter.

"You may enjoy arguing our communities' principles for your own amusement, but you're not the one the responsible for people's lives," lectured Gene. "We're struggling here just to build a future, and we may not be perfect, but we are the ones actually doing something."

"As amusing as this was, I'm not arguing with you out of principle," retorted Walter. "From my point of view, you're community's plan for the future is a contradiction. You'll unconditionally raise a baby, but at a certain arbitrary age leave that person completely at the mercy of an incredibly stringent wage system for their continued survival?"

"They're not simply 'at the system's mercy', and these are hard times. Even the youngest who can pitch in have to lend a hand. But now that we have the school, we have them doing things more appropriate for their age."

"How long are they going to be in school?" Gene didn't answer.

"Didn't you say it was gonna be like a week?" Gene glared at Bridget.

"In either instance it makes no sense. If you're so concerned with supplies that you feel this system is necessary, why commit to children at all? Why spend years of goods and time to raise someone from infancy, then only afford them a week of education and expect them to perform on a level adults are struggling with? From a purely material view, that's a massive investment to squander so hastily."

"We're not going to simply 'squander' children, we'll take care of them," insisted Gene, sounding emotional as he did so.

"Then why so carelessly squander adults' lives then? If you can afford to care for children, why not also allow Felicity to rest when she was sick? If you can afford the incredible demands of child rearing, then surely feeding her for one more day wouldn't have had a major effect on your supplies, and she may have been well enough to avoid that accident."

"Look, you didn't know that woman," lectured Gene. "She made a major mistake that put the community at risk, and there had to be consequences for her carelessness."

"From what Maude said, she actually was being refused food that day because she was unable to work the previous day, not because of whatever mistake she made before that."

"They punish you no matter what happens, you people don't give a fuck about us," accused Mick as he glared at Gene. "And you're full of shit."

"All right, that's enough. Bryon." Byron took a step forward. "Just take Walter here back to whatever you were doing before."

"The way I see it, there is one way to reconcile this contradiction," noted Walter as Byron approach him. "If we assume Shaffer's isn't planning for the future and has no need to raise children, then the contradiction disappears."


	44. Like Children

"Dude kicked Gene's ass," recounted Matt as he reached for his soup bowl.

"Really now?" asked a curious Christa.

"He seemed kinda angry almost," noted Sarah.

"It was sorta fun to watch though," added Clementine.

"Was definitely fun watching the fucker squirm when Walter pointed out they don't really give a fuck about us or babies or anything," smirked Mick.

"Forgive me I'm not as excited about this news as you are," quipped Christa.

"It was just great watching someone call that asshole on his bullshit," said Matt.

"And where is he now?" Carlos's question caused everyone to look around for any sign of Walter. There was no one waiting in line to get lunch, and they didn't see Walter at the other tables either.

"He's not here," realized Sarah.

"Oh yeah," noted a bemused Mick.

"Do you think he got in trouble?" Sarah asked her father.

"I don't see Gene either," noted Matt. "Maybe they're both in trouble."

"I'm sure Walter will be okay," Carlos told Sarah. "All he did was talk to Gene, they won't punish him for that."

"I hope not," conferred Christa. "I heard some shots about an hour ago."

"Oh that was probably just our survival class," informed Mick.

"More shooting practice?" asked Carlos.

"No, it was firecrackers," answered Clementine.

"Firecrackers?" asked Christa.

"That Tom dude was telling us how you can use fireworks to distract creeps," explained Mick.

"He told us about how he'd use bottle rockets to help clear out areas of lurkers," explained Sarah. "He also said he carries firecrackers with him when he goes on supply runs, in case he needs a distraction."

"Huh, that's pretty clever actually," noted Christa.

"They used fireworks a lot in the early days," noted Carlos. "But they became difficult to find after a while, so now they're only used for emergencies."

"He also taught us about noisemakers," said Clem.

"What are those?" asked Christa.

"You just get a can or a jar and fill it with things that make noise. Like coins or screws or rocks, and then you shake it around," explained Clem. "He told us they use them before they go into buildings because it draws the walkers out, and they're easier to deal with in the open."

"He also said bells can work too. But if you don't have one you can make one of these instead. And you should put cotton or paper or some other kind of stuffing in it when you're not using it, or it'll make lots of noise when you walk around," explained Sarah. "He also showed us if you tie a long rope to a bell or a noisemaker, then throw it over a street light or a tree branch, you can shake it from far away."

"It was like how Molly used bells in Savannah, but smaller and you can move it around," said Clem. "Also, Tom said I tied the best knots out of everyone."

"Nice to know I didn't spend a week boring you about knots for nothing," quipped Christa.

"He also told us about how thunderstorms confuse the lurkers, and how they react to distant sounds differently than close ones.

Oh, he taught us about prioritizing your equipment while scavenging. Telling us you always take as much food and batteries and bullets as you can carry, because you always need them. But don't bother taking more than one gun, or knife, or stuff like that because you can't use more than one at a time.

And he also said if you find too much food to carry back, you should just eat some of it right there, and carry it in your stomach. But don't overeat, or you'll make yourself sick.

And then he said when you're cutting through chain link fences, you don't have to make a hole, just a straight line, and then you can just pull back the fence and slip inside." Sarah looked at her father, noticing the distressed look on his face. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing sweetheart," assured a distracted Carlos.

"If Matt and I knew this stuff before, we would have never come here," commented Mick.

"But if you didn't come here you wouldn't have learned it," noted Sarah.

"Yeah, but, then we wouldn't be here," scoffed Mick. "Still not sure which is worse really." Sarah turned to her father.

"Dad, how come I always had to stay in my room before?"

"Sarah, I told you, I wanted you to be safe," reminded Carlos.

"But the rest of this place is safe," noted Sarah.

"No, not always," said Carlos.

"But, usually it is, right?"

"Sarah…"

"And how come I never had to help before either?"

"I helped enough for both of us as a doctor," reminded Carlos. "Besides, you're too young to help."

"Adam is younger than me, and doesn't he have to help?"

"Ugh, once he showed up, everyone was talking about how much happier they were with him over us," commented Mick.

"He does what we say. He doesn't complain," recited Matt in an annoyed voice.

"Sarah, you didn't need to help," assured Carlos.

"I just feel bad that other people were getting me food and I didn't do anything to help them," explained Sarah.

"Like I said, I was helping them," repeated Carlos. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But wouldn't it have been better if I had helped to?" asked Sarah. "Maybe we wouldn't have to leave then?"

"We left because this place isn't safe anymore, and it still isn't," stated Carlos.

"But you said Mr. Carver changed," retorted Sarah. "So, wouldn't it have been okay for me to help before, when…"

"We're not discussing this anymore." Sarah made a face and turned away from her father. A hush fell on the table as everyone went back to eating. Looking over from her seat, Clem noticed Nick alone at the end of the table, staring intensely at something. Having already finished her meal, Clem moved down a couple of chairs to sit next to Nick.

"Um, what are you looking at?" Nick didn't answer, but looking over at the next table Clem could see that Byron was sitting across from Nick with his back turned. "You're still mad at Byron?"

"First chance I get and he's dead," said Nick in a quiet voice.

"Nick…"

"No, he killed Pete, and I'm going to kill him."

"Then they'll kill you," reminded Clem.

"As long as I get him first."

"Pete said you shouldn't hold grudges."

"And he's gone now."

"He also told me he wanted you to survive this."

"Don't talk to me about Pete," insisted an angry Nick. "I knew him my whole life. I know what he wanted, not you. He didn't mean shit to you." Clem turned away from Nick in frustration. She thought to herself about what Pete would actually say, then turned back to Nick.

"Grow up," said an angry Clem.

"Me? You're the fucking kid," scoffed Nick.

"And you're the one acting like a kid."

"Fuck you, you don't know what this is like."

"I don't know what this is like?" repeated an angry Clementine. "I probably know more about it than you do."

"Then you'd know why I have to do this."

"I know why you want to. You're mad and you want to hurt someone. But you're just going to make things worse for all of us if you do it."

"Why should I care if I make things worse for any of you? Like any of you people give a fuck about me."

"Does that mean you don't care about any of us?".

"No, I don't."

"Then why did you save my life, twice?" Nick didn't respond. "And why did you give up when they were going to kill me?"

"Fuck you," mumbled Nick in a quiet voice as he turned away.

"Fuck you too." Clem marched away away from Nick and returned to Christa.

"Just leave him alone Clem," suggested Christa as Clem sat down. "There's nothing you can do for him right now."


	45. Mileage May Vary

"Now what you have here is gasoline." Clem watched as Ed, Shaffer's resident mechanic, gestured to a small tub full of a yellowish liquid sitting on a bench. "I'm guessing you've both seen gas before. Which is good, because you don't want to confuse it with this." Ed gestured to another small tub with a brown oily liquid in it. "That's diesel. And you don't want to mix it up with gas. Or mix it with gas."

"Why, what happens?" asked Sarah.

"You put diesel in a gas engine, nothing. Damn thing won't start. You put gas in a diesel engine though, it'll start, but it won't run well, and then it probably won't run at all because the gas will tear up the engine. So it's real important to know the difference between the two. Smell the gas."

"Um, why?" asked Clem.

"So you know what it smells like." Sarah and Clem reluctantly leaned over the first tub and sniffed it. "What's it smell like?"

"Like, gas," answered a confused Clementine as she wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah," concurred Sarah.

"Good, now smell the diesel." Clem leaned over the diesel tub, she didn't detect an immediate odor but sniffed anyways, and immediately regretted it.

"Uh, that's awful," complained Sarah.

"Yeah, it is," said Clem as she covered her nose.

"Doesn't smell like gas, does it?" asked Ed.

"No," said Celm, still recoiling from the stench in her nostrils.

"That's one way you can tell," said Ed. "Another is the color. Gas is usually yellow or green, diesel tends to be light brown or dyed red. Diesel is thicker than gas, little more like oil. Also, you notice the fumes coming off the gas?" Clem looked closely at the first tub again and noticed the odd vapor just above the liquid.

"Diesel doesn't have that," realized Sarah.

"Nope. That's another way to tell, it's also why we keep gas in these." Ed picked up a gas can. "You want to keep those vapors from escaping. That's why gas cans and gas tanks have air tight lids. You also should keep your diesel the same way. And if you're not going to be using it anytime soon you want this." Ed placed a container of red liquid on the table.

"This here is fuel stabilizer. They have different ones for gas and diesel, so pay attention to the labels, especially since they also tell you how much to use."

"Used for what?" asked Clementine.

"Used for keeping the gas from going bad," explained Ed.

"Gas can go bad?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah. Over time it oxidizes and go sour," explained Ed. "That's why you need to keep it stored right. If you got some gasoline whose color is off or smells wrong, you probably got bad gas. Bad gas doesn't burn well, if at all."

"But the stabilizer fixes that?" asked Sarah.

"It can prevent that from happening, but it won't fix bad gas."

"But it'll keep good gas from going bad," assumed Clem.

"It'll slow things down, yeah."

"Slow down? So, the gas will go bad eventually anyways?" asked Sarah.

"Well, yeah, gas is pretty complicated stuff actually. Even if you take care of it, eventually it just goes south. Kinda like food really."

"So, how long until all the gas goes bad for good?" Ed took a breath and scratched his head before turning back to Sarah.

"Couple of years, maybe?" shrugged Ed. "We've been getting shit mileage with the gas we have now. Once we use what we got we'll probably switch to just all diesel trucks."

"Diesel doesn't go bad?" asked Clem.

"Well, diesel is less refined than gas, so there's less to go wrong with it. But it eventually loses its kick as well."

"How long until that happens?" asked Sarah.

"Well that's harder to tell. I've seen a tractor with a ten year old fuel still turn over. Of course, one of the first things I did was mix in some fresh diesel because burning decade old diesel isn't good for a vehicle."

"So, eventually, we won't be able to use cars at all," concluded Sarah.

"Not unless someone starts making gas again," said Ed.

"Do you know how to make a gas?" asked Clem.

"No idea, I'm just a mechanic," said Ed. "Still, we're talking years here. By then, we should have a farm going and shouldn't need to do these runs for supplies anymore. But in the mean time, we still need gas and diesel, so the next thing you two need to learn is how to get it." Ed moved away from his work bench and headed towards a rusted car chassis sitting against the wall.

"Now this thing is a junker but it'll work for a demonstration." Ed picked up a couple pieces of clear tubing connected by red plastic bulge. "This here's a siphon. Run it into a gas tank and squeeze the pump here in the middle to get things going. Also, make sure you put the right end in, or you'll just be blowing air into the gas tank. You don't have this, you can just use clear tubes, suck the gas out to get it going."

"Why clear tubes?" asked Sarah.

"So you can see the gas coming, hopefully give yourself enough of a head start to avoid getting a mouth full of it. If you can't get a tube into the gas tank, you go right for the tank itself." Ed gestured to a jack sitting by the car. "Go head, jack it up."

"Us?" asked Clem. "We're not strong enough to do that."

"Sure you are, just work the handle up and down." Clem and Sarah moved to the jack and grabbed hold of the long handle. Even with Sarah's help, Clem found it difficult to push the handle down, and it also took some effort to pull it back up. After a few pushes Clem noticed the car was starting to move off the ground ever so slightly.

"Wow," awed Clem, surprised that she and Sarah were lifting a car.

"Now of course siphoning cars is small potatoes, but there's more of them then gas stations, and they're usually easier to get into as well."

"How do you get gas from a gas station with no power?" asked Sarah.

"Well they just keep it in tanks underground. You ever see those little metal lid things at a gas station? The ones that look like small manhole covers?"

"Yeah," confirmed Clem.

"The gas is down there. Just pop it open and hope for the best. From what I hear, the crew spent a whole day trying to brake a damn padlock once and that was the easy part," explained Ed. "Then they had to spend the whole next day working a hand pump in shifts." Ed looked at the car and moved towards the girls. "Okay, that's enough." Clem let go of the jack. She took a couple of deep breaths and wiped the sweat from her brow, surprised to see how high the back end of the car was off the ground.

"Now, this ain't exactly rocket science," said Ed as he knelt down by the back of the vehicle. "Gas goes in there, comes down here." Ed pointed to a large flat rectangular section of the car's underside that had several holes in it. "So, just a poke a hole in the tank and get the gas that way." Ed handed Clem a long screwdriver and a hammer. "Go head and try. All the other kids liked doing it."

"Um, isn't this dangerous?" asked Clem as she positioned herself under the gas tank.

"That tank's been empty for a while," assured Ed.

"I mean, if you were getting gas," said Clem. "Couldn't the gas tank, blow up?"

"Nah, gas tanks don't really blow up. Worst that could happen is a spark from the screwdriver might light the whole tank on fire."

"Um, isn't that dangerous?" asked Clem.

"Well what isn't these days?" shrugged Ed. "But so far, the crew hasn't managed to set any cars on fire." Clem pointed the tip of the screwdriver on the gas tank and arched the hammer back. "Of course, that might be because I gave them brass screwdrivers and those are suppose to be spark proof." Clem found herself wishing Ed hadn't told her that. She hammered the end of the screwdriver, piercing the gas tank.

"See, no big deal." Clem slid out from under the car. "You give it a try." Clem handed the hammer and screwdriver to Sarah, who positioned herself under the car. She struck the screwdriver, creating yet another hole in the tank.

"That's not so hard," said Sarah as she stood up.

"Well it probably helps that thing is a rusted piece of junk," said Ed. "You can just use nails or a drill if you have to." Sarah offered the hammer and screwdriver back to Ed. "Just put the screwdriver in your pocket for now, we're gonna need it for the next lesson," instructed Ed as he took the hammer back.

"What's the next lesson?" asked Sarah as she pocketed the screwdriver.

"Everything else you need to know about taking care of a truck." Ed led Clem and Sarah to a truck with the hood popped open. Ed gestured to a section of engine. "Now fuel is drawn into these chambers, spark plug makes a spark, ignites the vapors, and that's what drives the pistons, and that what's makes the truck go, more or less. If it's a diesel engine, there won't be a spark plug..."

"Because diesel doesn't have vapors?" Ed smirked at Sarah.

"That's right. On a diesel engine, air is pulled into the chamber, then compressed, which super heats it, then diesel is injected right into the compressed air, and that ignites it. But, that also makes diesel engines harder to start when it's cold out, so…"

"Ed, pick up." Ed grabbed his radio.

"Yeah Hec, what is it?"

"Harry's telling me their truck is stalled outside Saint Christopher's and he was wondering if you knew what it could be," explained Hector.

"What's the problem?" asked Ed.

"I don't know, that's why he wants to talk to you about it," explained Hector.

"All right, I'll switch to their channel." Ed turned back to the girls. "Just take five, I've gotta handle this." Ed fiddled with the radio as he walked away from the pair. Sarah sat down on the truck's front bumper and sighed.

"You okay?" asked Clem as she sat next to her.

"Yeah, it's just…"

"What?"

"My dad," answered Sarah. "For a long time he said this place was safe, but I could never leave my room. Now he says it's not safe, but things look okay."

"They do?" asked Clementine.

"Well, not okay. It's really scary that they won't feed us if we mess up, and that people can die because of it, and some of the people are just scary themselves. But if things were better before Mr. Carver changed, why didn't my dad want me to leave my room then, when they always fed me? Has he told you anything?"

"He told me and Christa not to believe anything Bill says," said Clem.

"Do you always call your mom by her first name?"

"Um, yeah, pretty much."

"Why?"

"It's just… how we like it," shrugged Clementine. "Do you know what Bill was like before you left?"

"Not really, I never actually met him. He made announcements almost every morning, and he made a speech at Thanksgiving. That's about all I saw of him. Maybe if my dad had let me leave my room more I would know," suggested Sarah in a bitter tone.

"You never snuck out? Just to see what was happening?" asked Clem.

"I did a couple of times, not long after we got our own room, then my dad found out and he got really angry at me. Like, angrier than I had ever seen him," recounted a nervous Sarah. "He told me he was sorry afterwards, but I didn't want to get yelled at again, so I just stayed in my room."

"I hate it when grown ups yell," said Clem. "And I really hate it when they tell me I'm a kid. Like them being grown up makes them better."

"I'm sorry Nick got mad at you," said Sarah. "But I wish you didn't swear at him."

"He started it."

"I know. I wish he didn't swear at you too."

"They're just words Sarah."

"Everything Bridget says is just words, and she always makes me feel bad."

"Do I make you feel bad when I swear?" asked Clem, worried she had been upsetting Sarah unknowingly.

"I don't feel bad, but it does worry me sometimes," confessed Sarah. "You sounded so angry when you called Bridget, well, you know. And you sounded angry at lunch today when you swore at Nick."

"I was angry," conferred Clem.

"I guess that's what worries me."

"You're not angry?"

"I'm scared, and worried, but I'm not really mad right now."

"Well I am," admitted Clementine. "I know life's not always fair, but you think it would be fair at least some of the time. Things keep getting worse, and there's never anything I can do about it."

"Well, I feel better, because of you," said Sarah in a friendly voice. "So that's something you did."

"That's not much," noted a dreary Clem.

"Well, it's a lot to me." Seeing the look of confusion and desperation on the older girl's face, Clem edged a little closer and placed her hand on top of Sarah's.

"Maybe I should do more then." Clem smiled as she felt Sarah hold her hand.


	46. All Good Things

"That was really cool," said Sarah as she walked back towards the pen.

"Really? I thought it was kinda boring," shrugged Clem.

"You didn't think it was interesting how the truck works?"

"Not really. I kinda lost track of what he was saying when he started talking about the fuel filters."

"So, you didn't hear the part about him teaching the class how to drive the day after tomorrow?" teased Sarah.

"No, I heard that part," assured an eager Clem. "I can't wait to try that."

"Yeah, that's gonna be so cool. I wonder…"

"How bout you two chatterboxes give it a rest for the night?" groused Richard, the bearded middle aged man escorting them to the pen.

"I'm sorry," apologized Sarah.

"Don't be sorry, be quiet already," ordered Richard in a biting tone. "You damn kids going on about ever stupid little thing. Not enough we have to feed you and hold your damn hands, I gotta listen to your mindless prattling on too?" Clem thought back to something Byron told her and realized he was right. This guy was a dick. As they neared the pen, Clem tensed up as she noticed Consuelo's face in the dim lantern light.

"Here, these two gossips are your problem now," grumbled Richard as he left Clem and Sarah in front of Consuelo. "You deal with them."

"I got it, Dick." Consuelo stood up and approached the girls, her hateful stare cutting right through Clem, filling her with terror. "Well shit head, you gonna put your arms out or am I gonna have to do that for you?" Clem held her arms out and immediately felt Consuelo's hands on her. Her grip was so tight it was actually painful, as if the woman was trying to stab Clem with her finger trips.

"Seeing as I only have one thumb, I'm thinking you'd better turn around so I can check you from behind." Clem reluctantly turned around and once again felt Consuelo's forceful grip digging into her sides. As she was searched again, Clem looked over at Sarah, who was clearly disturbed by what was happening. Consuelo snatched Clem's hat off her head, turning around she saw the woman looking inside it.

"Well, I guess you're clean," noted Consuelo in a spiteful tone. "Except for that spot on your face."

"What…" Consuelo spit in Clem's face.

"Why are you..." Consuelo turned to Sarah in a flash, paralyzing the girl with her gaze. "Clean yourself up you piece of shit." Consuelo tossed Clem's hat at the girl as hard as she could. "And you." Consuelo gestured at Sarah. "Get over here." A very nervous Sarah stepped forward and held her arms out. Clem watched in disgust as Consuelo's hands moved down Sarah's sides.

"Wait, what the fuck is this?" Consuelo stuck her hand into Sarah's pocket and pulled out a screwdriver.

"Oh, Ed gave me…"

"He gave you this?" repeated an angry Consuelo as she brandished the screwdriver in front of Sarah's face.

"I mean, he told me to hold it for him and… ah!" Consuelo grabbed Sarah's hair and pulled her closer.

"I don't want your excuses you thieving beaner!"

"She didn't steal it! He just…" Something that felt like a brick dropped right on top of Clem's head, knocking her painfully into the ground.

"Clementine! Don't...ah!" Clem heard Sarah cry out in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Clem heard Christa yell as she tried to stand up.

"You unhand her!" demanded Carlos. "Or…"

"You fucks say another word and this will just be the opening act for a whole goddamn show involving these two fucking shits!" Clem watched as the gate swung open. Her vision was blurry but she could see what she was pretty sure was Carlos and Christa. "Get in there!"

Clem felt a pair of hands hurl through the gate and back onto the ground. She heard Sarah hit the ground right next to her, howling in pain. Clem felt another set of hands, helping to her feet.

"The fuck is this? You want some too!" Clem could see well enough to find Adam angrily staring at Consuelo. "Back the fuck off you ginger flaked freak!" Consuelo pulled a pistol from her belt and aimed it at Adam, who's angry gaze immediately changed to a look of fright. He started backing away until hitting the corner, were he slid down the wall, trembling the entire way.

"I don't want to her another fucking word out of here!" Consuelo slammed the gate shut and locked the latch.

"Just sit down you two." Clem could feel Christa guiding her to one of the beds.

"Here, let me look at them." Carlos removed Clem's hat.

"Jesus, she's bleeding," commented Nick.

"It's not deep," said Carlos. "How do you feel?"

"Dizzy," mumbled Clem as she rubbed the top of her head.

"You might have a concussion," informed Carlos. "Lie back, rest." Clem lied down on the bed.

"Wait, if she has a concussion she can't fall asleep," said a panicked Nick.

"That's a myth," said Carlos. "And a terrible one. Rest helps if you have a concussion."

"You're sure?" asked Nick.

"He's a doctor," reminded Christa.

"Sarah, just hold still for a moment." Clem could hear Sarah whimpering.

"Okay, just lie down sweetheart. It's okay, it's over now." Clem looked over to see Sarah lying down on the bed next to her, a painful red mark on her cheek.

"Damn," awed Matt. "She really doesn't like you two."

"Leave us," ordered Carlos.

"Everyone back up," insisted Christa. "Give them a little space." Sarah turned her head and saw Clem looking at her.

"I'm so sorry Clementine," she sobbed.

"It's not your fault," assured Clem in a weak voice.

"Yes it is. I forgot to give the screwdriver back to Ed and got us both in trouble," said Sarah. "It's all my fault she hit you."

"No, it's her fault," dictated an angry Clem. "You didn't do anything wrong." Clem started rubbing her head, trying to ease the throbbing feeling. "Dammit," she mumbled to herself. "What did she hit me with?"

"The screwdriver," said Sarah. "She hit you with the handle."

"And she slapped you, didn't she?" Sarah nodded at Clem. "She hits really hard."

"Yeah, she does," sobbed Sarah. "I… I wish I was brave like you. You don't cry when people hit you."

"I just wish people didn't hit us," confessed Clementine.

"About fucking time!" Clem sat up to see what Consuelo was yelling about. Her vision had cleared and she could see Walter and Byron approaching the gate. "Wait, what the fuck is with the backpack?" Clem moved closer to the gate, along with most of the pen's inhabitants.

"He's not going in there," Byron informed Consuelo.

"Then what the fuck is he doing here?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye," explained a somber Walter.

"Goodbye?"

"Bill said he could leave." Byron's explanation surprised everyone, not least of which Consuelo.

"I don't know what the fuck you're trying pull you fucking drop out dickhead but I'm getting to the bottom of it right now." Consuelo grabbed her radio and twisted one of knobs. "Bill!"

"What's up Connie?"

"Byron here is telling me that you're letting that bald fuck go."

"That's right," confirmed Bill in a cheerful voice.

"Yeah... wait, what?" Consuelo seemed dumbfounded by Bill's answer.

"Me and him got to talking, and he made some good points. Between that, the 'donation' we got from his place, and how he feels about staying here, it just seemed like it was in everyone's best interests to let him go."

"No fucking way," grumbled Mick as he approached the gate. "He gets to leave?"

"He just got here!" exclaimed Matt.

"Shut the fuck up," hissed Consuelo.

"Connie, why don't you go get Edmund and bring out supper?" suggested Bill. "Give everyone a little space before he goes."

"But…" Everyone watch as an infuriated Consuelo marched off mumbling to herself, leaving Walter to talk to the others through the fence.

"Walter, listen to me," said Carlos. "Don't go."

"I will admit, I do feel like I'm abandoning all of you," confessed a guilt-ridden Walter.

"You've got nothing to apologize for Walter," assured Christa. "In fact, I don't think we could ever repay you for what you did for us."

"Get out while you can. Before Bill changes his mind," urged Nick. "Nobody's going to blame you for that."

"Speak for yourself," said Mick.

"Yeah, really," added Matt. "He's ditching us."

"I'm sorry," said Walter. "I talked to Bill for a while about the rest of you. He said he talk to you about what to do about your baby sometime in the next few days," Walter told Christa. "I want to tell myself I did some good before leaving, but the truth is I just can't stop thinking about Matthew, out there, looking for me."

"You don't have to explain yourself," assured Christa.

"Walter, please, don't go," begged a worried Carlos. "I understand why you want to leave, but…" Carlos eyed Byron, who seemed tense. "You're safer in here, than out there."

"I thought you said it wasn't safe here anymore?" asked a confused Sarah.

"Not for all of us, but…" Carlos struggled to find the words. "Just don't leave now, at night, please."

"We gave him food, water and a flashlight," informed Byron. "He'll be all right."

"I'm sorry Carlos, but I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if I passed up a chance to see Matthew again. He might even need me and the longer I wait the more likely something will happen to him," explained Walter. "If you hate me for that I'd understand."

"No, I don't hate you. You were kind to me and my daughter and you… you stopped me from making a terrible mistake. It's just…" Carlos looked towards Byron, then back to Walter. "Just, be careful. Protect yourself." Clem watched Byron closely, noticing the distressed look on his face.

"I'll be careful," assured Walter.

"Good bye Walter," said Sarah. "I'll miss you."

"Me too," added Clementine. "I hope you find Matthew."

"Come on," urged Byron. "I'll show you to the highway. After that you're on your own."

"If we meet again someday, remember, my door is always open, wherever that happens to be," said Walter with a smile.

"Still?" smirked Christa.

"Even after what happened with us?" asked Nick in disbelief.

"What we leave behind isn't as important as how we live," proclaimed Walter. "Sharing the lodge with all of you that night was worth far more to me than everything in it."

"Before I went to sleep, that was like the best day ever," said Sarah with a smile.

"Yeah, everything felt right," realized a tearful Clem.

"All right, come on," prodded Byron. "Let's get this over with." Clem watched as Walter left with Byron, passing Consuelo and Edmund coming the other way.

"So long asshole," she exclaimed in an oddly cheerful manner. "Enjoy getting eaten alive. You too Byron. I sincerely hope something rips your fucking throat out." Consuelo undid the latch and allowed Edmund to push is cart inside. Adam sprang to the front of the line, getting his dinner and water and immediately rushing off to devour it. As Clem and Sarah reached the cart, Edmund handed them their water, and nothing else.

"Where's our dinner?" asked a confused Sarah.

"You two aren't getting any tonight," informed an excited Consuelo.

"What!" exclaimed Carlos.

"Why not?" asked Christa.

"What, I got to spell it out for you?" asked Consuelo. "They stole a screwdriver and tried to smuggle it back in here."

"We didn't steal it," insisted Clem. "Sarah just forgot to give it back."

"And Clementine didn't even do anything," insisted a guilt ridden Sarah. "It's my fault."

"You both knew about it, and if you forgot to 'give it back' then you're both incompetent instead of thieves, and that's no better."

"This is absurd!" exclaimed Carlos.

"You're forcing them to skip a meal for an innocent mistake?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"Innocent mistakes are still mistakes," smirked Consuelo. "And they're not skipping a meal, they're skipping two."

"What?" asked Sarah.

"Hope lunch is good tomorrow, because you're not eating before then," informed Consuelo with a smile.

"I don't have stand for this!" insisted Carlos.

"Oh yes you do!" barked Consuelo as she put her hand on her gun. "And if you try anything it'll be the pair of them that suffers. I'm in charge here."

"I thought Bill was in charge," retorted Christa. "Does he approve of this?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him next time you see him?" suggested a smug Consuelo. "Until then, this is what's happening. And there's nothing you can do about it." Carlos looked at Sarah and Clementine, then down at the bowl he was holding. "Don't even think about it. You give that to them and they'll go hungry a lot longer than they're going to right now." Carlos glared at Consuelo, then thrust the bowl into her arms.

"If my daughter doesn't eat, then neither do I," insisted Carlos.

"Oh, wow, you really showed me," quipped Consuelo.

"I'm not eating either," declared Christa as she dropped the bowl back onto the cart.

"Christa no," said Clem. "You're…"

"No, I'm sick of this shit," she snarled. "If you want us doing your bitch work then you can feed us all."

"Oh, I don't know, it looks we've got plenty of takers left," noted Consuelo as Adam returned his empty bowl and cup. "That's unless anyone else feels like going hungry tonight?" Mick and Matt started eating faster. "What about you string bean? You got something to say?" Nick glared at Consuelo. She smiled as he stood up and approached the cart. "Oh, good, thirds is coming my way." Nick cleared his throat and spit into the bowl.

"Eat that you hateful bitch." Nick shoved the bowl into her arms.

"I will!" she exclaimed with a smile. "Well, looks like dinner's already over. So, toss your cups onto the cart and I'm going home to enjoy a feast." Everyone returned their empty cups and Mick and Matt put their bowls back on the cart. Consuelo bolted the gate shut and reached for the lantern. "Sleep tight kiddies!"

"I'm… I'm so sorry dad," sobbed Sarah.

"Don't be sweetheart," assured Carlos. "You didn't do anything wrong." Everyone moved through the dark and found their way into a bed. Clementine watched as Sarah took off her shoes and glasses.

"Um, Sarah?" asked Clem in a nervous voice.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"You… you're not scared are you?" asked Clem.

"Yeah," she answered in dispirited voice.

"You want to sleep in my bed again?" suggested a hopeful Clementine.

"No, I'll be okay," assured a weary Sarah as she lied down.

"Oh," said a disappointment Clementine. "You sure?"

"Do you want me to sleep in your bed?"

"No, I'm fine," insisted an embarrassed Clementine as she rolled over so Sarah wouldn't see her. She started pulling on her dingy blanket, when she felt something tap her on the shoulder. Rolling over, she saw Sarah standing over the bed.

"You sure?" Clem found herself too embarrassed to answer, yet she found herself relieved when Sarah lied down on the other side of the bed. She pulled the covers over both of them and even in the darkness, Clem could see a smile on Sarah's face.

"Thanks Sarah," said a timid Clem.

"If you were scared, you could have just told me," assured Sarah.

"I'm not scared," insisted Clem. "I'm just… lonely."

"You could have just told me that then," assured Sarah in a friendly voice. "I'd understand."

"I guess I was embarrassed," confessed Clementine. "With everything that's happened, me being lonely isn't important."

"Yes it is," insisted Sarah. "And, again, I'm sorry about what happened."

"I told you, that wasn't your fault," reassured Clem. "And even if it was, she didn't need to hit us."

"I don't understand why people have to be so mean," said Sarah. "Even when I get really mad, I never want to hurt anyone."

"Never?" asked Clem.

"No," answered Sarah. "Do you?" Clem paused to think about how to answer the question. Thinking back to when she first saw Nick and the brief pleasure she felt when she attacked the man on the radio before being overcome with fear in the fight that followed.

"Yeah…" she admitted in an ashamed voice. "Not a lot, but, there's been a few times I was so mad I did want to hurt someone."

"Oh…" Clem felt alone in the brief quiet that followed Sarah's surprise. "I… I guess I'm just different."

"Or maybe you've never been mad enough to want to hurt someone."

"I hope I never get that mad."

"I hope you don't either. Because the only times I ever felt that mad was when something really horrible happened."


	47. Whispers in the Dark

Clem felt a strong hand grasping her mouth. Before she could react she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

"It's me." Clem slowly sat up to find Chirsta standing near her bed.

"What's going on?" Clem saw it was still dark out, but there was enough moonlight shining through the fence to see around.

"Carlos wants to talk," whispered Christa.

"To me?" asked Clem.

"Yeah, and Nick." Clem looked over at a still sleeping Sarah. "Carlos said just let her sleep." Clem carefully got out of bed and walked with Christa across the pen. Clem saw Matt and Mick were still sleeping as well, and near the bathroom she spotted Nick and Carlos sitting on the floor.

"Okay, she's up," whispered Christa as she sat down. "Now what did you want to talk about?"

"We need to get out of this place," said Carlos. "And soon."

"Ya think?" scoffed Nick.

"I might know a way," said Carlos. "But, it involves her."

"Me?" asked Clementine.

"No way," said Christa. "She's gone through enough because of you people."

"Christa," scolded Clem.

"She'll go through worse yet if she doesn't get out of here," assured Carlos. "You saw what happened tonight, you can't possibly want to stay here."

"Of course not," said Christa. "I've only been here a few days and I hate this place."

"Then what choice do we have?" asked Carlos.

"You mean what choice do you have?" retorted Christa.

"Christa, stop it," insisted Clem. "Fighting isn't going to help."

"I'm not fighting Clem. And this isn't about what happened before," insisted Christa in a calm voice.

"Then what?" asked an annoyed Carlos.

"The way I see it. You two have a history will this Bill guy, we don't," said Christa. "We don't have anything he wants, we haven't done anything to him. Why should I risk Clem's life when it's possible he may just let us go?"

"He won't let you go," stated Carlos in a certain voice. "We tried to leave, and look at what happened to us."

"That's another thing I'm wondering about," said Christa. "You people didn't live in this pen place before you left, right?" Carlos didn't answer. "So why did you escape then? And don't tell me it was because you were outraged by the way they treat people here, because I'm not buying that."

"Fuck you," said Nick in a hushed voice. "You don't know how we feel, what it was like watching…" Carlos gestured for Nick to stop.

"Pete and I decided to leave when we did because Bill had become tired of feeding people he considered drains on Shaffer's," explained Carlos.

"Wasn't he already doing that?" asked Christa. "Listening to people talk around here, it sounds like it's been that way for a while."

"No, not like this. Now they feed you if you can keep working. But Carver wanted to phase out the pen. There'd be no prisoners to care for anymore. Nor family members of residents. Either you work for the crew, you had some other useful skill, or you're dead.

Gene devised the school to help transition the children into the crew. Once their classes are done, they'll graduate to doing supply runs, and if they can't handle it, they die.

They're not teaching them how to survive, they're training child soldiers to fight for Carver. And the ones who aren't capable will simply die, which knowing Carver, he'll champion as brave heroes who gave everything because they believed in Shaffer's future."

"Are… are you fucking serious?" asked a shocked Nick. "You and Pete both knew this, and you never told me?"

"Pete thought you might not leave if you knew," said Carlos.

"And what about everybody else?" asked an angry Nick. "You just want to leave without telling any of them what Bill's planning?"

"If we told anyone, we'd end up like Walter," said Carlos.

"They'd let you go?" asked Clementine.

"Walter's dead," stated Carlos.

"How do you know?" asked Christa.

"Carver hasn't let anyone leave since the fence was finished," informed Carlos. "He no doubt he sent Byron along so he could kill Walter once he was outside the wall."

"And you didn't fucking tell him?" asked an angry Nick.

"If I did I would be next," said Carlos. "And he'd still be dead."

"I don't think Byron would kill Walter," argued Clem.

"The fucking asshole killed Pete," reminded Nick.

"He said he wouldn't have if he didn't have to," argued Clem.

"He didn't have to!" growled Nick.

"Quiet," ordered Carlos. "If Carver told Byron he had to kill Walter, what do you think he would do?" Clem wanted to say something, but the only answers she could think of just upset her.

"Now hold up," said Christa. "You said Bill never let someone leave before? Then why bother saying he'd let Walter go? Why not just starve him like that woman?"

"He must realize how restless everyone is, especially us. It had to be a ploy to get us to think he'd actually listen to reason," suggested Carlos.

"So you don't know then," concluded Christa.

"I know this man," insisted Carlos.

"Yeah, but I don't know you," retorted Christa. "And you haven't exactly given me much of a reason to trust you."

"Me neither," added Nick.

"So you two are going to trust Carver?" asked an annoyed Carlos.

"As of right now, I don't trust either of you," said Christa. "This stuff about getting rid of everyone and training the kids to be soldiers, how is it you and Pete know that and no one else?"

"Yeah?" said Nick.

"Pete knew Carver was sick of wasting time and food on anyone stuck in the pen. Things have settled since we first came here and don't need a lot of physical labor anymore. Pete figured since the crew always had to supervise people from the pen, that Carver would eventually phase them out and let the crew handle their daily duties instead.

And I knew Carver valued me less as the crew become more efficient at scavenging and injuries became less common. I actually thought he'd ask me to join the crew myself to justify feeding Sarah, but instead, Gene told me he wanted Sarah to participate in his school. He said it was going to help all the youngest members of Shaffer's find their place in the community.

Talking to each other, Pete and I realized that Carver was just slowly weeding out anyone he didn't consider essential, and we both had people we cared about that he'd probably never consider essential, so we thought it was time to leave."

"I don't know, a lot of this seems to depend on me taking you and Pete at your word," realized a dubious Christa.

"Pete ran supply runs more than anyone, and I've been here since the beginning,' insisted Carlos. "We would know.".

"If they just want us to be a part of the crew, why are we learning about other stuff?" asked Clementine. "Like the chickens and history?"

"It's probably just a way to sell the rest of the community on it. Maybe he's seeing if any of you could replace some of the other residents here some day," reasoned Carlos.

"You know what I think?" asked Christa. "I think you know that Bill won't let you go because of whatever you did here before. So now you're trying to get us to help you escape, even though me and her may still go free."

"You truly think Carver will just let you go?" asked Carlos in disbelief. "Out of the goodness of his heart?"

"The goodness of his heart? No. But to be rid of two more mouths he doesn't want to feed? That seems like the practical solution," reasoned Christa.

"The practical solution would be to kill you," reminded Carlos.

"Then why hasn't he done it already?"

"Why did he bring you here if he was going to let you go?"

"The way I see it, trying to escape with you is a bigger risk than taking our chances with Bill right now."

"Only because you don't know Carver."

"And I don't know you either."

"Christa, I think we should listen to Carlos," said Clem.

"Really?" asked Christa in disbelief.

"I don't like Bill," said Clementine.

"But you like Carlos?" asked a dubious Christa.

"Not really, but Carlos never pretended like he wanted to help us when he didn't," explained Clem. "Bill says all this stuff and acts nice, but he never actually does anything to help anyone, even though he could. He could have let that woman have food if he wanted to, but he didn't."

"Yes, exactly," said Carlos. "Just look at what happened earlier tonight."

"That looked like Consuelo acting out to me," said Christa.

"Consuelo is probably closer to Carver than anyone," said Carlos.

"Byron says she's Bill's pet," added Clementine.

"I'm sure he told her to take away Sarah and Clem's meals. He's always had others do his dirty work. Like George, or Byron earlier tonight."

"Or you when you used to live here?" Carlos didn't answer Christa. "What about Pete?"

"Pete wouldn't do anything like that." Nick turned to Carlos. "Right?" A look of shock spread across Nick's face as Carlos remained silent.

"There's a reason he never wanted you to join the crew," said Carlos. "It's the same reason we all need to get away as soon as possible."

"I don't know," said Christa. "You're still asking me to take your word for most of this."

"I think we should do it," said Clem. "I don't like it here."

"I don't either Clem," said Christa. "I'm just not sure this is the best way to get out."

"If Bill lets us go, we'd have to leave Sarah behind," realized Clem. "I don't want to do that."

"I don't either, but you've got to ask yourself is Sarah worth risking our lives for?" said Christa.

"I think she is," said Clem. "If she hadn't brought me the first aid kit, you would have never fixed my arm that night."

"Wait, she did what?" asked a surprised Carlos.

"That's what you meant when you said you had help," realized Christa.

"I can't believe she'd do something like that without telling me," Carlos mumbled to herself. "That's not like her."

"She didn't want you to get mad at her," said Clementine. "Please don't tell her I told you that." Carlos sighed.

"Look, you don't trust me, but you know by now I will do anything to protect Sarah. So, help us escape, and I'll help you with your baby."

"You will?" asked Christa.

"It'd be a much smaller price to pay than the one I paid to stay here before," assured Carlos. "And, I know Sarah would be safer with both of you than she would be here."

"Christa, even if we did get to leave, do you really think just you and me can take care of your baby, alone?" asked Clementine. "With the way things are right now?"

"We could if we had to Clem," insisted Christa. "But... it would be a hard, and it would better if we had some help."

"So, we have a deal?" asked Carlos.

"Not so fast," said Christa. "Let's say we do this, and we don't get killed on our way out, then what? As much as I don't like it here, it's not exactly easy out there either. And if these people have been looting everything in the area, they probably haven't left much for us to use."

"That's where he comes in." Carlos turns to Nick. "Pete was storing things for us up in Springfield during his supply runs. For when we eventually escape. Pete suspected George or Carver knew, but he doubted they actually found the supplies themselves.

It's probably why they didn't come after us for a few days, they were expecting us to come to Springfield for those supplies, but they didn't know where to look for them." Carlos turned to Nick. "But Pete told you where they are, didn't he?" Nick didn't answer. "If we get out, you could take us to them." Nick looked away.

"Jesus, what's your problem?" asked Christa. "You know where there's supplies that'll help us and you won't even tell us where they are?"

"What's the point?" mumbled Nick.

"The point is we'll have things we need when we leave," said Christa.

"And then what?" asked a depressed Nick.

"Pete was always thorough," said Carlos. "I'm sure he left us enough to get somewhere far away from Shaffer's."

"Then what?" asked a despondent Nick. "We go somewhere else, and then what happens? Everyone I ever grew up with is dead. Then I came here with Pete and now he's dead. We go somewhere else and it'll just happen again, until eventually we're all dead."

"Well I'd rather have it happen out there then in here," snarled Carlos. "Where I'll be forced to watch my daughter be beaten and starved before being sent off to die to horde more goods for the same man who's holding us prisoner."

"You killed the father of my child," hissed Christa. "The very least you could do now is tell us where there might be something to help keep his baby alive." Nick looked away, clearly disturbed by Christa's comment.

"Nick, if you think we're going to die anyways, then why not just tell us?" asked Clementine. "Everyone I grew up with is dead too. So are a lot of other people I met after that. And it might happen again, but if you tell us where this stuff is, maybe it won't this time."

"It will," said Nick in a certain tone.

"I don't think Pete thought it would," argued Clem.

"And he's dead now," reminded a bitter Nick.

"And back in the woods he told you to do something if that happened," reminded Clem. "Was it to take us to this stuff he found for everybody?" Nick sighed.

"If we get out, I'll show you where they are, but that's it," said Nick. "It was Pete's plan, I don't know what he wanted to do after that."

"So where are they?" asked Carlos.

"I'll show you where they are if we get out," repeated Nick.

"Pete told you…"

"Pete also told me to keep it to myself until we were there," snapped Nick. "In case you decided to ditch me the second you knew where to look."

"This is stupid," said Christa. "What if something happens to you then? Or what if we get separated when we get out of here? How are the rest of us even going to know where to go?" Nick thought about Christa's question.

"Saint Christopher's," he answered.

"That's where the supplies are?" asked Carlos.

"No, but if we get split up, we can meet there," said Nick. "It's a huge church right at the edge of Springfield. You just follow the highway north for ten miles and you can't miss it. Once we're there, I could take you to what Pete hid for us."

"Ten miles is a lot of walking, but if it means I'll never have to see this place again, I suppose I could manage." Christa turned to Carlos. "So, what is the plan?"

"They're doing another supply run tomorrow, so when they get back, we take their truck and head right for Springfield for the supplies, then as far away from here as possible," explained Carlos.

"That doesn't seem like much of a plan," commented Christa. "How do you know their truck will even be waiting for us?"

"Because they always come back before six o'clock, which is usually the same time they feed us dinner. Carver gave everyone on the crew watches so they could keep to his schedules. They don't eat until after they finish off-loading the truck either, so it should be there with the keys in it, and maybe even what they took for the day as well," explained Carlos.

"They're not going to let us just take a truck," said Nick. "And how the hell are we suppose to get out of here in the first place?"

"We get a couple of guns, when dinner comes, we shoot the guard and take his gun and radio. The shot will cause everyone else to report in, and then we'll know where they are. The three of us shoot whoever is at the truck, then we leave before the rest of them figure out what happened."

"What about Mick and Matt?" asked Clem. "And Adam?"

"I doubt they have any loyalty to Carver. If they can keep up they can try and leave with us, but we shouldn't wait for them, and definitely don't tell them about any of this," insisted Carlos. "One of them might tell Carver as a way to get favor with him."

"Like Edmund?" Carlos nodded at Clem.

"And don't tell Sarah either," said Carlos. "Just before we leave, I'll tell her what we're going to do, but I don't want her worrying about this until then."

"We should tell her too," insisted Clementine.

"No," stated Carlos. "She's suffered enough as it is. I don't want to risk her worrying her any more than absolutely necessary. If she knew now it'd be all she thinks about until we left."

"But…"

"Clem, the less people who know about this, the better," said Christa.

"I… I guess so," conceded an annoyed Clementine.

"You're her best friend. I want you to stay close to her when we escape. Help her keep moving forward," instructed Carlos. "Nick, Christa and I will have to focus on fighting the crew if they are still at the truck."

"Yeah, about that, you still haven't told us how we're going to get guns," noted Christa.

"That's the other thing Clementine needs to do," said Carlos.

"She has to get the guns? Why?" Carlos stood up and pulled the bathroom door open.

"There." Carlos pointed to the tear in the fence the chute stuck out of. "If Nick and I can pry it open a little further, she can slip out. They keep the guns in a container next the warehouse. It's right around the corner."

"I know where that is," said Clem.

"Then you know about the windows on the ceiling they open during the day," said Carlos. "If you can slip out through there, you could definitely fit through one of them to get inside."

"Wait, if she can get out, why not just unlock the door to the pen and walk out right now?" suggested Christa.

"They block the gate with a truck at night," explained Carlos. "Even if we found the keys, the noise would bring everyone to us before we could even get the gates open."

"Well isn't there another way out of this place other than the main gate?" Carlos just stared at Christa. "Jesus."

"It's like Walter said, this place is a prison," realized Clementine.

"How'd you get out last time?" asked Christa.

"Pete used his leg as an excuse to bring Sarah and I with him when he went to check traps one morning with Nick," said Carlos. "And even then, Carver was only one step behind us. We could tell from the radio chatter that something had happened shortly after leaving, and they would be coming after us."

"Maude said Felicity didn't report you guys leaving," explained Christa. "Was she in on your first escape?"

"No, she simply trusted Pete enough to probably not think it was worth reporting," answered Carlos. "Considering how fast they discovered something was wrong, Carver must have known something about Pete's plans before we left that morning. Had she reported in, Carver may have been ready to stop us at the gate."

"We ended up right back here anyways," noted Nick. "And we got her killed for nothing."

"Carver killed Felicity, not us," stated Carlos. "That's why we need to leave, and soon. Carver has ears everywhere, and the longer we stay, the more likely one of them will hear something."

"I don't like this," said Christa. "If they catch Clem while she's trying to steal guns, what will they do to her? Would they starve her like Felicity?" Carlos took a deep breath. "Worse? What did they do to you two on the first day?" Carlos and Nick looked at each other, a pain expression on both their faces.

"George worked us all day," said Carlos in a weak voice.

"That's it?" asked an underwhelmed Christa.

"You have no idea…" Carlos grabbed Nick, trying to calm him.

"When I say all day, I mean all day," explained Carlos in pained voice. "We were not given anything to eat or drink, and he was there, the whole time, forcing us to work, non-stop."

"What kind of work?" asked Christa.

"Just nonsense. He told us to dig some holes to bury some lurkers. And when we finished that he told us they were in the wrong spot. So we had to dig new holes ten feet away, dig up the lurkers we just buried, and bury them over there. And then…

"He just wouldn't stop…" sniveled Nick.

"And if we stopped he had this pillow case full of tennis balls he'd start hitting us with."

"Why that?" asked a disturbed Clementine.

"It doesn't leave bruises, usually," explained Carlos.

"But he still swings it hard enough for it to hurt like hell," added a shaking Nick.

"Nick passed out at one point, and we he came to, George just kept hitting him until he started digging again," recounted a frightened Carlos.

"Jesus Christ," Christa whispered to herself.

"And if one of has died, it had just been another tragic accident," lamented Carlos. "And at the end of the day, George told us if we told anyone what happened, we'd do it all again the next day."

"So for the love of god, don't tell anyone," said a desperate Nick.

"And the people living here are just okay with this?" asked Christa.

"They don't know, or at this point they probably just don't want to know," said Carlos.

"I used to think he was just making them chop extra wood or something all day," Nick said to himself. "But his was just torturing them."

"And even the ones who do know don't speak up about it, because it'll make you a target for Carver, like it did for Walter."

"But, they wouldn't do that Clementine would they?" asked Christa. "They didn't make Sarah do that, so…"

"I honestly don't know," said Carlos. "I'd like to think they didn't torture Sarah too because she's young, but really it may have just been because they knew she couldn't have had anything to do with us deciding to escape. Or, it's possible they want her for something else."

"God, what did you people get us in to?" asked a flustered Christa.

"I know you're scared of what happens if she gets caught, but believe me, we're all at risk as long as we stay here."

"I'll do it," said Clem.

"Clem, you don't…"

"I don't want to live here. I think Walter is right, I don't think they would take care of a baby," said a wounded Clem to Christa. "Or me and Sarah."

"This is your choice," conceded Christa. "If this is what you want, we'll do it." Clem nodded.

"All right, let's go." Nick and Carlos positioned themselves by the tear in the fence. "Try to get us at least two pistols, and don't forget to load them. Byron doesn't store guns loaded."

"Okay," said Clem.

"And you might want to take off your hat," suggested Nick.

"What for?" asked Clem.

"That day outside the cabin, I knew you were behind the tree because I saw the brim poking out." Clem sighed and handed her hat to Christa.

"It'll be right here when you get back," assured Christa. Nick and Carlos pulled on the tear, widening it slightly. Clem moved her arms through the opening and tried to pull her head through. She pushed against the metal with her forehead to the point of being painful until finally it bent just enough to allowed her head to poke through.

She pulled herself forward, then felt someone grab her legs and carefully push her forward. Clem planted her hands on the ground as she leaned through the opening. She pulled one of her legs through, then lost her balance as she moved the other one through. She rolled onto her side in a relatively painless manner.

"You okay?" whispered Christa through the fence.

"Fine," Clem whispered back.

"If you can't get the guns, come right back."

"I will." Clem took a moment to survey her surroundings. Directly next to her she saw the chute emptied into a large metal tub on an industrial cart. The smell alone was enough to convince Clem not to look in it. After seeing no one was around, Clem moved to the side of the building and peeked past the corner. In the dim moonlight she could see the gun container in the distance. She also saw smoke coming out of some of the chimneys on the containers behind it.

Clem crept forward, worried that some of the residents might still be up. She moved to the door on the armory and briefly looked to see if anyone was around. The door was padlocked, but running up it were some metal rods. Clem grabbed onto the rod and put her foot in one of the indentations on the container. With some effort she pulled herself up and grabbed hold of another rod. Using the rods and indentations, Clem was able to scale on top of the container with more than a bit of effort.

Now on top, Clem crawled across the top of the container to the nearest window. Looking at it from the outside, Clem could see the slabs of metal that cover the windows were actually held to the container with some kind of hinge that had been welded onto the metal. And upon opening one she found a small loop welded onto the inside, presumably so you could use a broom to pull it closed. There also was a rubber like material around the edge, making the piece bigger than the opening it covered.

Looking down the nearest window, Clem could barely see the floor about eight feet below. Realizing she couldn't get back out through this hole, Clem closed it and moved to the other end of the container. Opening the the last window, she saw the gun locker right underneath. Remembering the shorter safe next to it, Clem reasoned she could climb back out through this hole by using them as stepping stones.

Clem lowered herself through hole, making contact with the locker below. Despite Carlos's certainty she could fit through the windows, she found herself having a little trouble getting her shoulders through the opening. She had to twist her body at an odd angle to slip one shoulder through, then carefully guided her other arm and head through the opening.

Climbing down into the armory, Clem was able to see a selection of pistols laid out on the table in the small bit of moonlight the window allowed in. Clem grabbed the pistol closest to her and brought it into the direct light near the gun lockers. It was a black gun with a fairly ornate gold design painted on it. Sliding the magazine out, Clem confirmed it had no bullets. She then pulled back on the slide to confirm there wasn't a round in the chamber.

Clem opened the locker. She quickly located several tubs of bullets on the bottom shelf, but she didn't see the right type, so she opened the other locker door to see the whole shelf. On the left hand side there were a couple of tubs that contained what looked like the right type of bullets. Clem took a couple and loaded them into the magazine. They seem to fit fine, so she kept loading until the magazine was full, then loaded it back into the gun. Clem checked to make sure the gun's safety was on, then tucked the gun into her waistband.

She was about to grab a second pistol from the table, when she noticed her gun sitting on the second shelf of the locker. She picked it up and briefly examined it. She felt oddly nostalgic looking at, almost as if she had missed it a little. Clem quickly checked to make sure it was unloaded, then reached for more bullets. She found it surprising the magazine held seventeen bullets. Clem loaded the magazine into her gun and checked to see if the safety was on.

She was about ready to make her get away, when she had a thought. She pulled back the slide, then removed magazine. Looking at it she noticed it had room for one more bullet. She loaded another round in it and pushed it back into the gun. It fit as snuggly as before, and now there was eighteen bullets in the gun. Clem closed one of the locker doors, when she heard a metallic tumbling sound at the door. Someone was unlocking it.

Clem hurried onto the short safe, but then remembered she had left the other locker door open. She hopped back down and grabbed it, but before she shut it she heard a loud click as the container door was unbolted. Seeing no other option, Clem climbed into the locker and slowly closed the other door from inside. She watched as a light began to shine through the cracks of the door. Clem gripped her gun tightly, terrified she had already been discovered.


	48. Behind Closed Doors

"I don't see why we always have to do this at night," Clem heard a sleepy Gene mumble from her hiding place in the locker.

"I do all my best thinking late at night," said Carver, who sounded wide awake. "Always have. When things are nice quiet is when you can really clear your mind. And I've always found something about the dark relaxing. Like you're truly alone, and just free to be yourself."

"Then why do you usually call me out of bed too?" asked Gene.

"Because, I do a lot of good thinking when you're around."

"And we have to do this in armory because?"

"I just wanted to see some of the handguns the crew found today," assured Bill. "Figured we could do two things at once. You know, like…"

"Multitasking?"

"Yeah, exactly. Speaking of which, what do you think of this one?"

"I think I'd like it better if you weren't pointing it at me." Clem flinched as she heard a loud click. "Jesus Bill, you…"

"Oh lighten up Gene. You know that tight ass high schooler always double checks to make sure these things are empty."

"Well I don't exactly feel much better having unloaded guns pointed at me either."

"That's the point Gene. You're not suppose to feel better when a gun is pointed at you. And I'm trying to find which one looks the worst pointed at somebody." Clem listened as she heard Bill pick up and set down several pistols in a hasty manner. "Now hang on, Byron said one of these had an expensive looking engraving on it he thought I'd like. I don't see it." Clem felt a chill shoot up her spine when she realized that was probably the gun she took.

"Maybe he's working on it or something," suggested a disinterested Gene.

"It's got to be around here somewhere." Clem nearly jumped out of her skin when the locker door swung open. It wasn't until she saw Bill's arm shuffling through the guns on the second shelf did she realize he hadn't opened the door she was behind. Clem instinctively pointed her gun at Bill's arm. She watched in terror as he dug deeper into the locker.

Clem found herself wondering what she should do if he sees her. If her first instinct was to shoot Bill if that happened, but she had no idea what to do after that.

"Look, you can ask him where it is in the morning," suggested Gene. "You know what he's like when you dig around in his stuff."

"It's my stuff," reminded Bill.

"You know…" Gene gasped. "Where did you come from?" Clem felt her whole body freeze up.

"I heard something." George's voice made Clem realize Gene hadn't seen her, which offered her a tiny bit of relief, followed by a swell of anxiety.

"You heard us you damn gorilla," barked Bill.

"Nah, there was something smaller scampering around a little earlier. Like an animal."

"Well, by all means, sniff around." Clem felt her stomach drop as she saw Bill pull the open door out as wide as he could. She could see out of the side of her eye that Bill was standing in front of the locker, as if he was inviting George to search it. As she heard George's heavy footsteps approach, Clem tightened her grip on the gun, thinking she had no choice but to try and shoot them.

"Something bothering you, boss?" Clem jumped as she heard the locker door slam shut in response to George's question.

"You know damn well what's bothering me," growled Bill.

"You still on that?"

"I told you, whatever Pete found up north must have been big for him to run off with three others like he did," explained Bill. "And we would have found it if you had just stayed put until he came out to get it. But…"

"Pete knew you'd be waiting for him in Springfield, and he'd be ready by the time he came out of hiding for whatever piss ants you left up there to watch out for him," stated George. "It was best to settle this right away, so I settled it."

"You lost a man and nearly got Connie killed, all to bring back a bunch of useless fucking idiots we don't need and a doctor we can't trust."

"Not my fault the two people you sent to keep an eye on me didn't know what the fuck they were doing," said George in a dismissive tone. "And as for bringing people back. We had enough beds, so I brought them back. That's your policy, not mine."

"It's also my policy you do what the fuck I say, you hear me you goddamn dumb ape?" Clem listened for an answer, but she didn't hear one. "What, you deaf? Let me spell it out for you. You're only here because I want you to be, not because any of us need you. And if you want it to stay that way, you'd better not step out of line again." Clem listened again for a answer, and this time she heard George softly chuckling.

"Something funny you want to share with me?" asked Bill.

"What's it like?" asked George in an oddly curious tone.

"What's what like?"

"Having to do all this talking and scheming and scamming just to get people to do what you want?" asked George. "See, I got no idea. Anytime I tell someone to do something, they do it. If they're particularly thick headed, I'll tell them a second time. Like your glorified hall monitor, Maude. Practically pissed herself when I made it clear she was coming with me to bring Pete and the others back.

All I had to do was ask, and that's all it takes it for me to get someone to do what I want. But you, seems like you have to work real hard to make that happen."

"I ain't telling you again…"

"Yeah, you will." Clem listened as George moved away from the locker.

"Don't you walk away from me!" shouted Bill.

"I gotta get some sleep, I got a class to teach tomorrow," said George in an aloof voice.

"He's just about out lived his usefulness," commented Bill.

"You sure about that?" asked a tepid Gene. "He's still our best scavenger."

"He was," said Bill. "Big farm animal like him was useful back when we were competing with every wayward looter and a flood of lurkers none of us knew anything about.

Now that things have settled a little and we know how they work, any couple of dopes with machetes can handle things. Which reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about the school."

"I think it's going pretty well."

"Well I don't."

"Look, you said the same thing when Lauren started the greenhouse. Now it's helping to feed everyone. You said Cookie was unnecessary, and everyone perked up after he started handling the meals. You said the long lunch break for everyone would reduce how much work we'd get done in a day, and we get more done. And…"

"And you said debating that high and mighty faggot in front of everyone was a good idea," reminded Bill in a biting tone. "And he made you look like a fucking idiot."

"It wasn't like that, he…"

"You ever suggest something that stupid again, and you'll be leaving here next. You hear me?"

"Yeah… I hear you," answered a nervous Gene.

"And like I was saying, the school is shaping up to be a real bad idea. Not a single one of them worth the cost of feeding them. Except Adam. I wouldn't mind having a few more kids like him. Does what he's told, doesn't complain, and keeps his eyes and ears open. Well, as many of them as he has left."

"You shouldn't think of Adam as ideal. He's clearly traumatized and…"

"We're all traumatized," retorted Bill. "Except maybe Gertrude's useless brat. All her hemming and hawing and she'll probably get herself killed on her first time out."

"Well that's why I've got George lined up tomorrow. So that doesn't happen."

"Well I guess that's one thing the big ape is still useful for, scaring people straight. But these damn kids just ain't worth the trouble."

"Look, I know the brothers aren't exactly rising to the occasion. But Ed really liked Sarah and…"

"And what? Dumb broad couldn't remember a screwdriver sitting in her pocket," commented Bill. "Even if she wasn't an idiot, Ed's gonna what? Train her for years just so we can have someone half as useful as him just in time for us to not need either of them?

And that Clementine girl, she's the most useless of them all. She doesn't know anything, can't do anything useful, and she's got a rotten attitude. Little fucker nearly kills Connie, then has the nerve to ask for her worthless shit back right to my face. Spoiled little ingrate thinks people actually give a fuck what she wants." Clem felt her heart sank as she listened to Bill's characterization of her.

"Didn't Byron say she was the best shooter?" asked Gene.

"We got plenty of people who can use a gun already. That's nothing new. What we need are more people we can depend on or someone who knows something important the rest of us don't, like the mad woman who runs the greenhouse. Not an entitled brat whose only only talent is shooting a gun. That's just a recipe for trouble. Byron also told me about how she didn't speak up when she found that bullet in her gun, like she was plotting something."

"I think you're overreacting. She probably just wasn't expecting it."

"Then she's incompetent, and that's almost as bad."

"She seems pretty capable for a nine year old."

"Yeah, for a nine year old," repeated Bill. "That's liking saying pretty capable for a damn baby. Kids aren't all that capable, so unless they're dependable like Adam, they ain't much use."

"You gotta think of it as a long term investment. People need something right now to make them believe in a future, and they don't see that in Adam. But they do see it in having a couple of kids who actually act like kids. Gertrude and Cookie both like having them around. I like having them around. Even Tom said he enjoyed their time with them, and he's on the crew.

We have to think that one day, things are going to get better. If we lose that, we got nothing to shoot for."

"You see, that's one thing you and I have never seen eye to eye on Gene. You think if you found out that if this really is the end, that there be no point in going on. But the way I see it, it'd be a little like knowing the day you die.

It'd be a shock at first, but once you've accepted it, it be liberating. Living like there's no tomorrow sounds doesn't like a bad way to live, and if there really is no tomorrow, then you got no reason to not live when you think about it. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah..." said Gene in a dejected tone. "I just think don't most people would feel like that. For them, keeping a couple of kids around might help keep their spirits up."

"Yeah, but how many damn kids do we need? The way I see it, you really only need one for what you're talking about."

"Which one?" Gene asked, sounding uncomfortable as he did so.

"Well, I haven't decided yet," said Bill. "Let's finish up your classes first, and then we'll see which one can be our little beacon of hope to hopeful."

"And the others?"

"Let em fall where they may." Clementine listened closely as someone walked out of the container. She also thought she heard Gene sigh, but she wasn't sure.

"You coming Gene?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." Clem watched as the light shining through the cracks in the locker dimmed. She heard the doors slam close and the locks click into place, and then nothing. She was alone in dark again, yet she still didn't move. She remained in the locker, waiting and listening for anyone else.

Clem didn't know long it was until she finally summoned to nerve to push the locker open. She hesitated, almost expecting someone else to enter, but no one came. Clem climbed onto the safe, then onto the locker, and back out onto the top of the container. She surveyed the area, then sat down on the edge of the container and leapt down. Clem hurried back to the pen and went right towards the opening.

"Hello?" whispered Clem. "Christa? Carlos?" Clem reached through the hole, then heard someone approaching from the other side.

"You okay?" whispered Nick.

"Yeah, I got the guns."

"Pass them through." Clem removed the guns and stuck them through the slot in the fence. "Okay, now you." Clem saw Nick and Carlos's hands pull on the fence to widen the gap, allowing Clem to slip through. As her head came through the opening, Clem felt a set of hands grab her under the armpits and pull her through. Clearing the gap, Clem found herself in Christa's arms.

"Thank god you're all right." Christa held Clem tight. "You were gone so long I thought something must've happened to you."

"I'm okay," assured a weary Clem. "I'm just… tired." Christa set Clem down, and handed the girl her hat back. As the pair moved back into the rest of the pen, they saw Carlos lift up one of the empty mattresses and placed the two guns underneath it.

"Tomorrow evening we'll be rid of this place. Until then, everyone just keep your heads down," instructed Carlos in a hushed voice as he lied down on the same bed.

Clem found the way back to her bed, where Sarah was still sleeping peacefully. She very carefully climbed back into bed, taking great care not to disturb the older girl. As she settled in the bed across from her friend, Clem noticed she seemed to be smiling, which Clem found comforting.


	49. School of Hard Knocks

Clementine looked over at the four walkers tied to posts, wandering about aimlessly, occasionally reaching the limits of their leashes. It was a cold, cloudy day and being hungry just made Clementine all the more miserable. She and the others had been led outside to an open area where George and Maude where standing in front of this odd sight, an impatient look on both their faces.

"Gene tells me to set all this up, then can't be bothered to show up himself," grumbled an irritated George.

"Can we just start without him?" asked an annoyed Bridget.

"You're going to learn how to handle lurkers in groups of two," reminded Maude. "You can't do that without a partner."

"My partner is some weird animal child who wouldn't leave the classroom this morning," retorted Bridget. "I don't think he's going to be much help."

"I'll be you're partner," offered Matt.

"Like hell," scoffed Bridget.

"Any chance I can trade Matt for Sarah?" asked Mick.

"What? Does bros before hoes mean nothing to you?" asked an offended Matt.

"I wanted to stay Clementine's partner," said Sarah.

"No one is changing partners." Maude checked her watch and sighed in frustration. "I'll call him." Maude reached for her radio.

"Hold up," George gestured to the gate. Everyone watched as Gene approached with Adam following right beside him.

"Sorry we're late," apologized Gene as Adam moved next to Bridget. "He was… he was a little anxious this morning."

"I don't like having my time wasted Gene," growled George.

"I know, I'm sorry. You've got everyone now so you can get started." Gene started walking back to the front gate.

"You're not sticking around?" asked George.

"I can't, I need to see Bill about something." George scowled as he turned back to the class.

"Let's get this over with." George grabbed his machete and moved towards one of the walkers. "By now I'm sure y'all know what this is." George gestured to the walker leashed in the distance behind him. "Call em whatever you want, they all fall the same, which is my field of expertise." George started moving towards one of the walkers. "These things mostly go after loud noises. But if you get in close enough, they'll smell you."

Clementine watched as George stepped up to the walker. Once he got within arm's reach the walker spun around and hastily stumbled towards George. George just casually took a few steps back and let the Walker's leash stop it. As Clementine watched the walker futilely snap at George, she started thinking back to Savannah and how the walker's just passed her by when she was covered in their scent.

"They tend to pick up the pace when they smell something they like. You can use this, fresh blood is like catnip for these damn things. They smell something bleeding near-by, and they'll go for that instead of you." George just stared at the walker for a moment.

"But you won't always have something to feed them, so that's when you need to take care of them. Your first instinct may to be aim for the head, because this…" George plunged his machete through the walker's chest. "Doesn't do a whole lot." The Walker keep swinging its arms at George in a futile attempt to reach him. "But skulls tend to be hard to crack, or so I'm told. If you got something sharp, you can go right through the eyes and into the brain." George pulled his machete out of the walker and aimed the blade at the corpse's face.

"But the eyes tend to be a hard target to hit, and you may not have anything sharp on hand." George traced his machete down the walker's body. "But these things can barely walk as it is, and after a week they're practically rotten to the core, so it doesn't take much to topple them." George stopped the tip of the machete at the walker's ankle. "You break a bone, slice a tendon, or just knock their leg out from under them, and they come down like a ton of bricks." Maude took a garbage picker in hand and approached George.

"And seeing as they're not exactly quick witted, once you knock em down, you got a golden opportunity to finish them off." Maude stepped to the right of the walker, an anxious look was forming on her face. "Now, you want to get them right on the side of their ankle. You hit them from the front, they'll fall forward. Cut their leg out from behind them, they fall back. But you nail them from the side…"

George swung his machete at the walker's ankle, practically slicing its foot off. It fell onto its side and was promptly stabbed in the head by Maude. "And they fall sideways, and if you got someone waiting beside you, they can finish the job before the sack of meat even knows what happened to it."

"We've found that a simple division of labor goes a long way to clearing out groups of these things," explained Maude as she and George moved back towards the class. "One person knocks them down, the other one puts them down. You fall back a few feet if you can, do it again."

"These things don't think, they're slow, and they don't adapt. So you've got no reason for losing to them." George stabbed his machete into the ground. "Any questions?" A nervous silence followed.

"Umm…" George immediately looked at Mick. "What if… you're like, totally surrounded by creeps? Then what?"

"You adapt," stated George. "If you're just trying to get past them, pick a direction and start swinging. Forget about finishing them off, both of you just aim for legs and clear a path through them before they get back up or figure out how to crawl. You just got to keep swinging and keep moving. Any other questions?" Another silence followed.

"I'd like to add, if I may…" Maude looked at George, who just shrugged. "When you're clearing an area, it's a good idea to stab already down ones, to make sure they are in fact dead. The more heavily wounded ones sometimes just give up walking and wait for someone to come to them." Maude sounded oddly bothered as she explained.

"Well then, let's hurry and get this over with." George moved over to Bridget and handed her the machete. "When working in pairs, whoever is stronger and faster should take point." Bridget tested the wait of the machete in her hands and smirked. "And in the case of you kids, whoever has the longer arms."

"Here." Maude handed the trash picker to Adam. "I find it's easier to use both hands."

"You better not get me killed," Bridget told Adam.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" George asked Bridget. "Pick one." Bridget inched towards the nearest standing walker, looking a little nervous as she did so. "These ain't your momma's chickens," growled George. "Quit pussyfooting around and get on with it."

Bridget hurried to the nearest walker. As she approached it turned around and stumbled towards her. Bridget hastily swung for the walker's leg, causing it to fall onto its side. No sooner then it hit the ground than had Adam plunged the trash picker into its skull. He immediately pulled the trash picker out and then stabbed the walker once more.

"It's dead psycho," informed Bridget. "You can stop now."

"Both of you, quit fucking around with it and get over here," ordered George. "You two now." Bridget and Adam handed the weapons over to Mick and Matt. The brothers ran to the next walker. Mick chopped the walker's leg before it could turn around and Matt was all too happy to stab it in the back of the head.

"Oh yeah!" cheered Matt.

"The girls now." Clem took hold of the trash picker. Even with both hands she found it awkward to hold since it was nearly as long as she was tall. "Go on!" Sarah and Clem started moving towards the last walker. Sarah was trembling as she neared the walker, and yelped in surprise when it turned around. She hastily backed up as the walker reached the limit on its leash.

"It ain't getting any closer," barked George. "Deal with it already." Sarah nervously tiptoed closer to the walker. She looked up at the putrid corpse snapping its jaws at at her, its arms flailing about like mad in a desperate attempt to grab someone and started breathing heavier with every passing second.

"You waiting on a kiss princess?" yelled George. "If that thing weren't tied down, you and her would both be dead right now!" Clem watched as she saw Sarah growing more frightened upon hearing George's words.

"Sarah," whispered Clem. "Just, focus on the leg. All you got to do is hit the leg." Clem watched as Sarah's gaze moved down to the walker's feet. She stepped aside as the older girl arched the machete backwards. Sarah swung the blade and the walker fell onto its side. Clem hastily moved closer to its head and readied the trash picker, when she felt something grab her ankle. Clementine screamed as the walker pulled the girl's leg right out from under her. The trash picker fell out of Clem's hands as she hit the grass.

"Clementine!" Sarah tossed the machete aside and grabbed Clem's wrists, trying to pull her out of the walker's grip. Clem looked down at the walker and started screaming as she saw her foot being pulled towards its jaws. "Somebody help!" Adam lunged at the walker with the trash picker, jamming it clear through its skull. Clem felt the walker's grip go limp and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" Looking past a shivering Sarah, Clem saw Maude standing behind her with a gun in hand. The older woman seemed rattled herself, her hands trembling as she lowered the gun. A sickening sound brought Clem's attention back to the walker, which Adam was repeatedly stabbing in the head.

"You should have used the machete! Not drop it!" Bellowed George as he looked down at a shaking Sarah. "And you." Clem felt sickened as George looked directly at her, his furious gaze paralyzing the girl where she sat. "You should have been beside it! Not right in front of it!" Clem cowered before George as Maude examined Clementine's feet.

"She's okay," commented a nervous Maude. "She didn't get bitten."

"She will soon enough. Both of them will." George marched off towards the front gate.

"Wait, we were suppose…"

"You handle it," George ordered Maude. "I've wasted enough time with these damn kids."


	50. The Mad Woman's Greenhouse

Clem looked up at Harry as he led her and Sarah towards the greenhouse. He looked a little like Matthew, but not as skinny and with a yellow shirt on. After lunch he had informed the girls they'd be spending the afternoon with Lauren, Shaffer's gardener. It was starting to rain and Clem really wished she had a umbrella or rain coat. At least her hat stopped some of the water. Sarah had taken to using her jacket as an umbrella.

"So, what's Lauren like?" Harry said nothing in response to Clem's question. "How come we never see her at lunch?" Again, no response. "Um… Can you hear me?"

"Yep," said Harry.

"You just don't talk much?" asked Clem.

"Nope." Clem sighed. She looked ahead and saw another arrangement of cargo containers, forming a smaller wall near the corner of the main wall. Towering over the shorter wall were a pair of metal poles holding up what looked like some kind of clear plastic over the entire area. Harry opened the door to a container that served as another tunnel and led the girls through. Upon opening the container's other door, Clementine found herself standing before a massive arrangement of plants spread out across dozens of tables.

"Wow." Moving inside Clem realized they were standing under a giant tent made out of a see through material. The walls surrounding the tent were made out of the same material, allowing Clem to see the rainwater flow off the tent and into a series of large metal tubs surrounding the exterior. "So where's…" Clem watched Harry disappear back into the tunnel as he closed the doors.

Looking around, Clem found herself stunned at just how beautiful all the plants were. She saws rows of strawberry bushes in different states of bloom lined up against one side. There was a table full of of wide assortment of colorful flowers. Planters brimming with large leafy vegetables. Huge jars full of water with green stalks growing out of the tops of them. Moving to another table, Clem saw a tray full of sliced up carrot tops sitting in water. Across from it she saw rows of planters with odd wire cage constructions that had whole cucumbers hanging off it, just waiting to be picked. They looked so plump, Clem couldn't resist reaching for one.

"Do! Not! Touch! Anything!" Clem and Sarah looked over to see a middle aged woman in thick glasses with dark hair staring angrily at them. Her waist band was lined with pouches containing a large assortment of gardening tools, she had thick gloves on, and a large gas mask that covered the front of her face. The woman marched forward, pulling her mask off so that it hung from her neck. "I'm assuming you're the first batch of children Eugene is forcing on me?"

"I'm Clementine."

"And I'm Sarah. Are you Lauren?"

"I, am Dr. Bostwick. You may refer to me as that, or simply ma'am, which I prefer. And I'll tell you right now, I don't care who either of you." Clem frowned, realizing she probably wasn't about to enjoy her time with this woman.

"I'm sorry," said Sarah.

"You're sorry what?" asked Bostwick.

"Um… I'm sorry ma'am?"

"Yes, you are." Clem scowled, realizing she was actually going to hate her time with this woman.

"I didn't mean to sound rude, I was just wondering if you grew all these plants yourself… ma'am."

"Do you think any one person could ever possibly grow and maintain this wide variety of flora with only the most remedial of equipment in the worst of circumstances through the dead of winter by themselves?" asked Bostwick in a dubious tone.

"I guess…"

"The answer is yes," announced Bostwick in a stern tone. "I am that one person. And why? Because I'm no pitiable gardener or farmer, or even a lowly horticulturist. I have PhD in Botany and a Masters in Chemistry from Cornell, and despite this, I've been assigned to the demeaning task of growing food for a cabal of violent neanderthals whose only talent is clumsily dragging back every useless trinket they can for the benefit of an inept dictator whose short sighted idiocy will likely doom the human race's greatest chance of survival." Clem and Sarah just looked at Bostwick, unsure what to say to her.

"Um, well, I think your garden is really amazing, ma'am," complimented a meek Sarah.

"Amazing?" scoffed an insulted Bostwick. "I've built a veritable Eden from scavenged trash under this flimsy plastic circus tent they laughably believed would pass for a functional greenhouse. I've personally nurtured, protected, and hand pollinated every single thing you see in here. I've worked miracles, and what thanks do I get?"

"Um…"

"I get a bunch of ungrateful imbeciles complaining that I alone haven't already built them a never-ending food supply before reaching our first growing season! Oh, how hard could it be? You just put seeds in the ground," mocked Bostwick in an odd accent.

"No, hunting and gathering is easy you fucking idiots! We stopped doing it because every moron eventually figured it out and left the rest of us with nothing to eat! A lesson obviously lost on the inbred hicks who still value a savage's abilities to carry things over the key scientific innovation that served as the foundation for all human civilization since before recorded history!" Clem and Sarah just stared at the fuming woman, baffled at how to respond to her.

"Do you want us to leave?" asked Clementine, hoping she'd say yes.

"Yes." Clem breathed a sigh of relief. "But Eugene is adamant on me ferrying troublesome children through my facility every afternoon for the next three days, so you're not to touch anything unless I specifically tell you to."

"Then what are we suppose to do?" Bostwick marched away and out of sight behind some of the taller plants sitting on tables. She returned shortly pushing a large cart lined with buckets and tools. "You two, can push this, behind me, while I work." Bostwick wheeled the cart right before Clem and Sarah.

"That's it?" asked Clem.

"Yes, that covers every single thing I'm loosely confident either one you are capable of." Clem sighed as she and Sarah took hold of the cart's handles. "Wherever I am, I want that cart half a meter to the right of me."

"Meter?" whispered Clem.

"Three feet," answered Sarah. "So half that is a foot and a half."

"And I don't want to hear either of you talking to each other," scolded Bostwick. "Bad enough Eugene is forcing you on me as it is, the last thing I want to listen to is the bickering of children." Bostwick moved over to one of the strawberry plants and Clem and Sarah moved the cart next to her.

"Um… your strawberries are really good," said Clem, hoping a compliment would soften the woman's harsh attitude a little.

"Of course they are. I grew them," snapped Bostwick. "I'm so overqualified for this task it's sickening. These people would ask Rosalind Franklin to brew them moonshine." Clem grimaced as she realized flattery would be of no use.

"Gertrude said you stayed with her on her farm?" asked Sarah.

"Ugh, the aloof hayseed and her horrid offspring," Bostwick mumbled to herself.

"So, you're not friends?" asked Sarah.

"I'm not here to entertain you with my life story," hissed Bostwick. "I'm here to work."

"Then why do we have to be here if you're not going to teach us anything?" Bostwick groaned loudly in response to Clementine's question.

"You want to learn? Fine," retorted Bostwick. "I'll answer any questions you have relating to my fields of expertise. And only questions relating to those topics. Otherwise, remain quiet." Clem and Sarah watched as Bostwick removed a pair of clippers from her belt and moved them towards the strawberry plant.

"Um, what are you doing now?" asked a curious Sarah.

"Currently, I'm identifying the stolons on this specimen and determining if this is an ideal time to excise them." Bostwick turned to Sarah. "Any other questions?" Sarah turned away.

"Why are there cut up carrots in a tray of water over there?" asked Clem, less curious to the answer and more interested in forcing Bostwick to talk to her.

"So the stems will continue to grow, allowing me to continually harvest them" answered Bostwick without looking up.

"Why?" asked Clem.

"To eat them, why do you think?" asked an annoyed Bostwick.

"Why would we eat carrot stems?" asked Clementine.

"Why would…" Bostwick put her clippers away and turned around. "Well I do apologize if carrot greens doesn't appease your discriminating palate, but between the strawberries, radishes, cucumbers, and lettuce I'm currently being expected to produce on a regular basis and the sapling and seedlings I'm growing in preparation for spring, I had a rather limited amount of remaining resources and time at my disposal to satisfy the nutritional needs of over two dozen people and decided that greens from scallions, garlic and yes, even carrots, might be a cost effective way to supplement our diets!"

"I… I was just wondering… why not grow the whole carrot?" clarified a nervous Clementine.

"Do you have any idea how long it takes for a carrot to reach maturity?" asked Bostwick.

"Um…"

"Currently I'm averaging about two months from germination. And once they're harvested they're gone. Those carrot greens can be harvested repeatedly, and contain potassium, vitamins, and even some protein and calcium! All things we need to live!" Clem flinched as Bostwick yelled at her. "Any other questions?" Clem shook her head and Bostwick returned to her plant.

Clementine remained quiet after that, afraid to incur the doctor's wrath again with her ignorance. Instead she merely pushed the cart as instructed as Bostwick worked quietly. She stopped at every single plant they crossed and studied them intensely. Occasionally she'd clip leaves, or take a bit of the soil, but rarely harvesting anything from her plants.

Sarah occasionally would ask a simple question, and sometimes would get a clear answer. Just listening, Clem did pick up a few things from the ornery doctor. Apparently the greens she lectured Clem about are put in the stew they eat at lunch. Radishes grow easily, and in about a month. You can harvest lettuce a few leaves at a time and more will grow back for a time. Ashes from the resident's fireplaces were used as fertilizer.

Probably the most interesting thing Clem discovered were the odd contraptions kept under the tables that looked like miniature tents. Bostwick occasionally removed them from under the tables and placed them over certain plants. When asked about them, she told Sarah they're cold frames, and they help to keep in heat. When Sarah asked if they tent already did that, Bostwick told her she didn't trust it. Clem found it was actually warmer under the tent then outside, but not much.

Mostly Clem found herself bored being forced to occasionally push around a cart for someone who made it abundantly clear she wanted nothing to do with her. She was also still shaken from the walker earlier that day. Between this morning and the one she tried to kill outside the lodge, Clem was beginning to think she was simply incapable of killing walkers without a gun. Even the one she beat to death in Savannah, it was only because Lee helped her one last time. Despite being eager to leave tonight, Clem was also finding herself anxious at the thought of dealing with walkers again.

"What's this?" Bostwick jumped to one of the lettuce plants. "Something's been chewing on you," announced Bostwick through gritted teeth.

"We haven't…"

"Not you, and insect has been here. Those idiots must have brought it in with the last bucket of dirt they brought me," announced Bostwick as she approached the cart. "If you two want to actually be useful, you can help me find it and kill it."

"Right now?" asked Clem.

"Yes right now!" Bostwick handed a pair of fly swatters to Clem and Sarah. "Before the horrid thing lays eggs and destroys weeks of hard work."

"Okay, so…"

"Split up and search for any signs of the damn thing," ordered Bostwick as she put her mask back on and took a swatter and an aerosol can out from the cart. "A caterpillar would have probably eaten more, so the most likely culprit is a darkling beetle. Check under the tables, between pots and planters and if you find a caterpillar or a beetle, kill it. Then bring me what's left of it. If you find one that's already dead, bring me that then." Bostwick hovered over her lettuce plants, looking for any signs of the intruder.

"So, how do we find…"

"Use your eyes! How else!" ordered Bostwick.

"Where should we start?" asked Sarah.

"Anywhere, preferably away from me." Clem and Sarah started moving away from the obsessed doctor. "Wait." Clem and Sarah stopped. "If you find a bee. Don't kill it. Bees pollinate plants."

"Okay," said Clementine as she turned away.

"And don't kill any ladybugs either. Their young eat aphids. Little bastards."

"We won't," assured Sarah.

"And above all else, if you find a spider, do not disturb it," ordered Bostwick.

"Because it might bite us?" asked Sarah.

"Because spiders eats pests and I don't want either of you scaring one away," instructed Bostwick. "In fact, if a spiders tries to bite you, let it. Better it than you." Clem scowled and hurried away from the coarse woman, Sarah following behind her. Clem casually examined under a few of the tables, and around some of the strawberry plants, then sighed.

"This is stupid," said an annoyed Clementine as she sat down. "We're not going to find it."

"Come on Clem," urged Sarah. "We shouldn't give up."

"Why not?" asked Clem. "Even if we find it we just have to go back to pushing a cart while she does everything and talks about how much she hates us."

"Yeah, she's not very nice." Sarah sat down next to Clem. "Why did Gene make us come here if she didn't want to teach us anything?"

"Probably just to give us something to do," shrugged Clementine.

"Maybe he just wanted us to see the greenhouse." Sarah looked around and the foliage. "I had no idea there was somewhere like this the whole time I lived here. It's really beautiful."

"Too bad the person who stays here doesn't want anybody seeing it," shrugged Clementine.

"Well, maybe she's just worried about someone messing it up," reasoned Sarah. "I mean, she had to work really hard to grow all these plants. I don't think I could ever do that." Clementine looked out at the massive rows of fruits and vegetables and flowers and sighed.

"Yeah, me neither," she realized. "I can't do anything."

"Don't say that," said Sarah.

"I couldn't even kill that walker this morning," realized Clem. "I would have died if you didn't grab me or Adam didn't kill it."

"You're just nine years old," reminded Sarah.

"And I'm going to be nine for another half a year," said Clementine. "Then I'll be ten for a year. And eleven for a year."

"Clementine…" Sarah looked at the younger girl, slumped over with a depressed look on her face.

"It hasn't even been a whole year yet since people started turning into walkers," realized a dispirited Clementine.

"Maybe things will get better at some point," suggested Sarah. "We may not be very good at fighting lurkers, but most of the people here seem like they are. Maybe one day they'll get rid of all of them, or most of them."

"Then we'd still be here," reminded Clementine.

"Well, maybe this place will get better too?" suggested a hopeful Sarah.

"It don't think it will." Clem eyed the strawberries across from her. "I'm so hungry."

"Yeah, me too." Looking at the bright plump berries dangling across from her. It was as they were begging to be picked. Clem stood up and scanned the area. Dr. Bostwick was under a table on the other side of the tent, probably still hunting for some lone beetle.

"Let's just eat something right now," suggested Clem.

"We can't do that," insisted Sarah.

"Why not?" asked Clem. "They should have fed us last night, and this morning."

"We got to eat lunch," reminded Sarah.

"And we're still hungry, because they took away our meals."

"I'm sorry I messed up. It's not fair they won't let you eat because of me."

"No it's not. If it's my fault for not remembering you had the screwdriver, than isn't Ed's fault too? He was the one who gave it to you," reasoned Clementine. "I bet he got dinner, and breakfast." Clementine moved towards the strawberries, she looked over to make sure Dr. Bostwick was still pre-occupied, then headed to the nearest plant. "Maybe it's her fault for not watching us."

"Clementine, don't," insisted Sarah.

"Why not?" asked Clem as she reached for a strawberry.

"We'll get in trouble, and they'll feed us even less."

"That won't matter tomorrow." Clem gripped the strawberry.

"What? Of course it would. I'm already hungry, and if they don't feed us tomorrow…" Clem wanted to tell Sarah they wouldn't be here tomorrow, but then she remembered what Carlos said about keeping their heads down and realized if they got in trouble today it might mess things up. Clementine let go of the strawberry and backed away.

"I'll just be glad when it's dinner," sighed Clem as she moved back towards Sarah.

"Yeah, me too." Looking past Sarah, Clem spotted something.

"Sarah," she whispered. "Look." Clem pointed at the table behind Sarah. Turning around the older girl found a black beetle sitting near a couple of potted flowers. "Get it." At Clementine's urging, Sarah slowly crept forward and raised her swatter. "Wait." Clem crept around to the other side of the table. "If it runs this way, I'll get it."

Sarah nodded and took a step closer, which send the beetle running. Clem swung at the bug and hit the table, sending it skittering back towards Sarah, who swung right at it. She hit the bug dead on, and the pot sitting behind it. Both girls watched in terror as the pot tipped onto its side, rolled off the table, and shattered.

"What was that!" Clementine and Sarah watched as Dr. Bostwick hurried towards them. "Oh god… no…" Clem watched in disbelief as Bostwick dropped to her knees, tears running down her face as she examined the damage. But the despair in eyes was immediately replaced with rage as she looked up at Clem and Sarah.

"Which one of you did this?" Clem and Sarah just stood motionless before the woman, stunned by the unbridled anger in her voice. "Well, speak up!" Clem flinched as Bostwick shrieked at them. "Well if you're not going to say anything, then I'll just assume it was both of you. So…"

"It was my fault," confessed a tearful Sarah. "Clementine didn't do anything. It was all my fault. It was an accident and I'm so so sorry. I…"

"You're sorry?" shouted an infuriated Bostwick. "You clumsy ox! Just look at what you did!" Bostwick gestured to flower lying amongst the broken pot. "You think any amount of saying you're sorry will fix that!"

"I… I…"

"It was an accident," repeated Clementine. "She was trying to kill the bug."

"Did I say kill one of my flowers as well? No!" Bostwick marched off towards her cart. "I told Eugene that this was a terrible idea, but would he listen? Of course not!" Bostwick hastily dug through the cart, tossing things aside. "Where's that bloody thing?" Bostwick pulled a radio from the cart. "Hello? Somebody?" She started fiddling with the knob. "Which channel was it? Hello?"

"Lauren? Is that you?" asked Hector.

"It's Dr. Bostwick to you! And I want you to send one of the armed knuckle draggers responsible for policing this hell hole to take these loathsome children away from my facility!"

"All right, I'll have Harry pick them up."

"And get that William dolt on the telephone." Sarah trembled as Bostwick stared right at her. "There's an problem he needs to address immediately."

"Bill's actually busy right now. So…"

"Well he just got busier, because if he wants me to keep feeding his gang of troglodytes, then he'd best give me his fullest attention, right now!"


	51. Urges

Clementine ran through the rain towards the pen, Harry right behind her. Nearing the entrance, she saw Byron waiting at the door, an umbrella in hand.

"Here, get in close," he instructed as Clem reached the pen. "I got her." Harry left without a word.

"How come we don't get umbrellas, or rain coats?" asked a soaked Clementine as she shook the rain off her sleeves.

"Hector put some towels in the pen." Byron could see Clem wasn't happy with this answer. "Like I said, I just work here." Byron looked past Clem. "Where's Sarah?"

"She got in trouble, and Dr. Bostwick wouldn't let her leave until Bill called her back," explained Clem.

"What'd she do?"

"She knocked over a flower by accident, and broke the pot."

"She grows flowers?" asked Byron in surprise. "I thought she was suppose to be growing us more food?"

"She mostly is. I think she said the flowers are for attracting bees, or was it getting rid of bad bugs?" Clem looked up at Byron. "Are you going to be watching the pen all night?"

"Until everyone gets back and Edmund brings dinner," answered Byron. "Why?"

"Just wondering," said Clem. "Is anyone else in there?"

"Just the brothers and Adam. Here, put your arms up so you can keep the umbrella over me." Byron flinched as he handed the umbrella to Clementine. "I'll be quick. I don't like this anymore than you do." Byron quickly patted Clem down, then stood up, rubbing his right shoulder.

"What happened to your arm?" asked Clem.

"Nothing," snapped Byron.

"I was just asking."

"Well don't." Clem's eyes narrowed.

"Do you think Walter is okay?" said Clem, more accusing than asking.

"He was fine the last time I saw of him. After that is his problem," answered an annoyed Byron. "Away from the door." Byron unlatched the gate and let Clementine inside. She saw the towels Byron mentioned and immediately grabbed one. As she dried herself off, she could hear Mick talking with Matt.

"I don't care how big a bitch she is," said Matt. "Bridget is smoking hot. I would kill to get my hands on her."

"Ehh, I'd take Sarah over Bridget any day," answered Mick.

"You're insane."

"I don't dig chicks with attitude."

"Is that why you don't like Consuelo?" asked Matt. "Cause she's kinda hot and…"

"Stay away from her." Clem looked over at Mick, he seemed oddly disturbed at the mere mention of Consuelo.

"Okay, yeesh," said Matt. "Never get why she gets you all worked up."

"Well she does, so just drop it."

"Okay, okay. But still, you're crazy to say you'd pick Sarah over Bridget."

"You're crazy to think you'd have any chance with Bridget."

"Not as crazy as you are for even thinking about Sarah. The only reason you're even considering her at all, is she's literally one of only two girls close to our age here. Probably in the world really."

"Yeah, well, that counts for a lot these days."

"Yeah, well, if Sarah was my only choice, I'd rather choose Clementine." Clem found herself growing irritated by the brother's conversation.

"That's sick man," said Mick.

"I just mean, if those are my only two choices, I'd rather wait five years or whatever for Clementine to get older than go near Sarah," explained Matt. "She's a cute girl, she'll probably grow up to be hot."

"You know I can hear you," commented Clementine.

"Yeah, so?" shrugged Matt.

"So, I don't like you talking about me," said Clementine.

"Then don't listen," suggested an unconcerned Matt. "Besides, I just said you're cute, learn to take a compliment." Clem turned away in disgust and tried to finish drying herself off in a hurry.

"See, that's what I mean about girls with attitude problems," said Mick. "You talk about Bridget, but you'd have to put up with shit like that all the time."

"Better than looking at dog like Sarah all the time." Clem was finding herself growing increasingly infuriated by what she was hearing.

"She's kinda cute," said Mick. "And besides, she's got a nice ass."

"She's got a fat ass," said Matt.

"Dude, no, she's not even fat. Not even close."

"Didn't say she's fat. I said her ass is fat."

"Oh, I know what this is. You don't know what a girl's ass is suppose to look like. It's common for boys your age."

"I know what a girl's ass is suppose to look like. I stare at Bridget's ass all the time at lunch."

"Bridget doesn't have an ass."

"She has a tight ass."

"She is a tight ass."

"Would you two shut up?" asked Clementine, finding their conversation as annoying as it was confusing.

"How bout you stop eavesdropping on us?" suggested an annoyed Mick. "Or better yet, go hide in the bathroom like the freak is doing." Clem groaned and headed for the bathroom, stepping inside she saw Adam curled up in the corner. She closed the door and sat down in the corner across from him. Clem could still hear Mick and Matt, but the door was muffling their conversation.

"Um… hi." Adam didn't respond. "Are you okay?" Clem looked at the scarred one-eyed boy, looking off into space and could clearly see he didn't feel okay. "Well, if you can hear me, I just wanted you to know, that I have seen some really bad things too." Adam kept looking off into space. "And, I understand why you wouldn't want to talk about them. I don't like talking about those things either."

"Do you know what those older boys are talking about?" asked Adam in a quiet voice.

"You mean, just now?" Adam nodded.

"Um. Girls, and how pretty they are, and choosing them, and what their… bottoms look like, for some reason," recapped Clementine.

"Why?"

"Why are they talking about those things?" Adam nodded again. "I don't really know, it's kinda weird. Sarah told me that when girls get her age, they're suppose to think about boys and kissing, so maybe..."

"I use to know people who would talk about things like that. I didn't understand it either."

"There's a lot of things I don't understand," confessed Clem. "I hate being little."

"Me too…"

"Thanks for helping me this morning." Adam didn't respond. "I really don't like this place. It's the worst."

"No…" whispered Adam in a quiet voice.

"You don't think it's worst?" Adam shook his head. "Well, maybe not the worst. There was this place in Savannah…"

"You haven't seen the worst."

"How would you know?"

"Because," spoke Adam. "You wouldn't be leaving this place tonight if you had." Clementine's eyes went wide with shock.

"What?" Clem waited for an answer, but didn't get one. "What did you just say?"

"Keep your heads down..." mumbled Adam to himself. Clem moved in close to Adam.

"You could come with us," whispered Clem.

"Pete wanted me to come with him," mumbled Adam.

"What? Pete…"

"I told him." Adam turned to Clementine, revealing the terror on his face. "I don't want to leave."

"Away from the door." Byron's announcement prompted Clem to leave the bathroom. Sarah shuffled into the pen, sobbing and soaking wet as she sat down on a bed.

"Sarah," called Clementine as she sat down next to despondent older girl. "Are you okay?" Sarah only sobbed softly in response. Clementine grabbed one of the towels. "You should take off your jacket." Sarah removed her wet jacket, letting it hit the ground and Clem started drying her hair. "What happened?"

"They… they said… I can't eat tonight," explained a choked Sarah.

"Oh Sarah, I'm…"

"Or all day tomorrow."

"What? But you barely got anything to eat today."

"I know," cried Sarah. "I'm going to starve. Just like that woman."

"You won't starve Sarah, you're…" Clem hesitated mentioning the escape plan. Realizing Byron was still sitting just outside the fence. "It's just one more day. After that…"

"I'll mess up again," cried Sarah. "I'm going to starve to death because I'm stupid."

"No. Sarah. You'll be okay," assured Clementine. "Your dad…"

"He can't help me," whimpered Sarah. "Consuelo said they make things worse if he tried."

"Byron, pick up."

"Go head Hector," answered Byron.

"Can you give me a hand in the warehouse real quick?"

"I'm watching the pen," reminded Byron.

"I know, but I really need a second set of hands and everyone else says they're busy," explained Hector. "You're just outside it'll only take a minute."

"All right, I'm on my way." Byron put his radio down and turned to gate. "I'll be back in a minute. So just try to stay behaved until then." Clementine watched as Byron took his umbrella and moved out of sight. As soon as she couldn't see him, Clem leaned in real close and whispered directly in Sarah's ear.

"You'll be okay. We're leaving tonight."

"What?" Clem made a shushing sound. "They won't let us leave," whispered Sarah as quietly as she could.

"We've got guns, under the bed," whispered Clem.

"You do?"

"Your dad planned it all out. He'll shoot the guard and we'll get out of here."

"But, Byron is the guard," whispered Sarah. "I don't want dad to shoot him." Clementine realized she didn't like the idea of Byron being shot either, but looking at a nervous Sarah, Clem found herself disliking the idea of watching her friend starve to death a lot more.

"If we don't leave, you'll have to stay, and you won't get anything to eat," whispered Clem. "We're just doing what we have to."

"But…"

"I couldn't help but overhear." Clem looked over to see Mick hovering over Sarah. "Is it true?" Clem felt her stomach sink. "They're not feeding you until the day after tomorrow?" Clem breathed a sigh of relief.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," answered a conflicted Sarah.

"That's bad." Mick sat down incredibly close to Sarah. "Real bad."

"I know." Clem noticed Mick seemed to be almost studying Sarah, his gaze moving up and down her body.

"She'll be okay," asserted Clementine.

"Oh no, you skip a whole day and it's almost impossible to catch up," informed Mick. "That's how it started for Felicity. She didn't get anything on her first day back in here, then she got sick, couldn't work one day, didn't get fed the next and… Well, she's gone now."

"That won't happen to Sarah," said Clementine.

"Hey, who's been here longer?" asked Matt.

"It doesn't matter, she'll be fine," said Clem.

"And why's that?" asked Mick, suspicious of Clem's certainty.

"You two know something we don't?" asked Matt.

"No," denied Clem. "It's just, they won't let a little girl die."

"She's not that little, and even if she was they wouldn't care," stated Mick. "Matt had to skip a day once."

"Mick got me some food, but he said he wouldn't be able to do it again," explained Matt.

"Yeah…" The older boy appeared uncomfortable. "Don't believe the guards when they say they can get you food. It's not worth it," insisted a shaky Mick.

"We won't," said Clem.

"But I know another way." Sarah turned to Mick.

"You… you do?" Mick leaned in close, putting his arm around Sarah, who tensed up in response.

"It's simple," he smiled. "At dinner, I put a couple of pieces of radish or lettuce in my mouth, and when they leave, I take them out and give them to you."

"That sounds kinda gross," said Sarah.

"It's better than not eating at all," assured Mick. "I've had to do it for Matt a few times."

"Don't tell her that," insisted an embarrassed Matt.

"But if I'm going to do this, I have to know you wouldn't tell anyone."

"I won't," assured a nervous Sarah.

"I'd like to believe you, but really I need a guarantee."

"How could I guarantee I wouldn't?" asked Sarah.

"Simple, kiss me," suggested Mick.

"What?" asked a confused Clementine.

"Why do I have to kiss you?" asked a nearly as confused Sarah.

"So I know you care enough about me not to rat me out," explained Mick. "I care about you. Do you not care about me?"

"I care but…" Sarah turned away, as if she was trying to escape from Mick. "I really don't want to kiss you."

"Why not?" asked Mick, sounding a little offended. "There something wrong with me?"

"No, but… I just don't want to. You only kiss people who are special to you."

"So I'm not special to you?"

"Well…"

"She says she doesn't want to kiss you," reminded Clementine. "Leave her alone."

"Why don't you let her speak for herself?" suggested Mick.

"Yeah, stay out of it." Matt shoved Clementine off the bed. "This is 'big kid' stuff."

"Don't hurt her," said Sarah, worried about Clem.

"She's fine, you're the one in trouble," reminded Mick. "Just one kiss and you can eat something tonight."

"She doesn't need any food tonight," asserted Clementine as she approached the bed.

"Yeah, I'll be okay, just…"

"You were just crying about how you're going to starve, now you're okay?" observed Mick. "Both of you seem pretty calm about this problem."

"She'll be okay, because…" Clem scrambled to find an excuse. "Because, I'll save Sarah some food. I'll just put it in my mouth. You don't need Mick."

"You do that and we'll tell the guards," stated an annoyed Mick.

"I thought you said you care about Sarah?" retorted Clem. "But you won't let me give her food?"

"I gotta know you two aren't gonna turn around and rat me out," said Mick. "I mean, I offer to help her and just want her to show she trusts me, and you come back with we don't need you because you already gave us what we need? Pretty ungrateful."

"Yeah, Mick could just let you starve, but he's willing to risk his life for you, and this is how you say thanks?" added Matt.

"Maybe… maybe I could kiss you afterwards?" suggested Sarah.

"You're asking me to take you on faith when your little friend here is acting like we're trash?" noted Mick. "Not happening."

"We won't tell anyone, but just leave her alone," pleaded Clementine.

"You think you'd want her to eat tonight," Mick told Clem. "And tomorrow. A kiss would only take a second but you're acting like I'm worse than going hungry?"

"I'd… I'd rather just help her myself," reasoned Clementine.

"Well if she let's me know I can trust her, then we can both help her. That's twice as much for her to eat. You are her a friend, right? Don't you want what's best for her?" asked Mick.

"Maybe they already got a plan?" pondered Matt. "What were you whispering about before we came over?"

"If you are planning something, you should tell us," asserted Mick. "Because there's a good chance I'll know if it'll work or not."

"We're not…" Clem struggled to think of a rationale.

"I'll do it," stated a skittish Sarah. "If it'll make you happy." Sarah reluctantly turned to Mick, who had an eager smile on his face. She hastily arched her head forward and briefly kissed Mick on the cheek.

"There, I did it," said an uncomfortable Sarah.

"Oh no, it's got be a real kiss," insisted Mick. "On the lips."

"You didn't say that," exclaimed Clementine.

"Hey, stay out of it kid," instructed Matt.

"Come on, for real this time." Sarah sighed. Again, she very briefly kissed Mick, this time on the lips. "No, like how the adults kiss in the movies. Where they open their mouths and take their time."

"I… I don't want to do that," stammered Sarah.

"She just kissed you twice," stated Clem. "You…" Matt shoved Clementine away from the bed.

"Step off kid," instructed Matt.

"I don't want to do this," insisted a nervous Sarah as she tried to move out of Mick's grip. "I won't tell anyone anything, but…" Mick pulled Sarah closer, refusing to let her go.

"You know what, I'll just make it easy and kiss you," assured Mick in a confident voice. "Just relax and let me handle it."

"No!" Clem watched as Mick moved his other hand to behind Sarah's head and forced her closer.

"Stop it!" ordered Clem as she lunged for Mick. "Don't…" Matt grabbed Clem by the arm and pulled her back. "Let me… Ahhh!" Clementine yelled out in pain as Matt twisted her arm.

"I said, step…" Clem heard a loud thud and suddenly found her arm free. Spinning around she found Adam standing over a woozy Matt, the bucket from the bathroom in his hands and a primal glare in his eye.

"The fuck are you doing?" Sarah fled as Mick moved to confront Adam. The younger boy swung the bucket, which Mick caught. Mick then grabbed Adam by the arm, but Adam immediately sunk his misshapen teeth into Mick's hand. The older boy cried out in pain from the savage bite, desperately he tried to pry Adam off with his other hand, but upon releasing the bucket Adam smashed the dented chunk of metal into Mick's face, knocking him to the ground.

Clementine watched in horror as Adam repeatedly hammered Mick's skull with the bucket. Over and over again, without pause, each blow as forceful as the last. Sickened by the sight of blood pooling on Mick's motionless face, Clementine turned away and covered her ears, but she couldn't block out the horrid sound of metal repeatedly smashing wet flesh into the pavement, or the gunshot that followed.

"Step back! Right now!" Clem watched as Byron barged into the pen, his gun trained on Adam. Hearing the shot and seeing Byron aim at him, Adam dropped the bucket and immediately backed into the nearest corner, trembling in terror. "Oh god..."

"Everyone check in," cackled Hector's voice over the radio. "What was that shot?"

"It was me," reported a shaky Byron. "I'm in the pen and it was a warning shot. I think Adam just killed Mick." Clem briefly looked towards Mick, and regretted it. In that short glimpse she saw blood splattered on the pavement surrounding Mick's head, which had been broken into grotesque mess of misshapen flesh.

"Mick!" cried Matt. "Mick, get up!"

"Stay back!" Clem heard Byron cry. "He's gonna…" Clementine listened as she heard an odd gurgling sound coming from Mick's direction.

"He's still alive!" declared Matt.

"No, he's coming back!" asserted Byron.

"No he's not. he's…" Clementine winced as she heard another gunshot. "No! He was still alive!"

"He was coming back as one of them!"

"No he wasn't!" screamed Matt. "If his head was smashed then he wouldn't have come back at all! You fucking killed him!"


	52. Large Groups of Men

Clem looked at Matt, sobbing to himself in the chair across from her and Sarah. He'd been crying ever since Byron brought them all to reception area in Bill's office. Clementine wasn't sure where Adam was. The last she saw of him, Tom was tying his hands behind his back with a twist tie. The three of them were alone now, waiting for Byron to finish explaining what happened to Bill.

"I'm sorry Matt," said a tearful Sarah, on the verge of crying herself. "I'm so…"

"Fuck you slut!" snarled Matt. "You fucking cock tease! This is your fault!"

"I… I'm…"

"She didn't do anything wrong," spoke Clem in a confident voice.

"If you had just kissed Mick like he wanted, none of this would have happened!"

"I know, I'm…"

"I wouldn't have happened if Mick left her alone like she wanted," retorted Clem.

"You should have been grateful that there was someone who'd actually want to touch a butt ugly whore like you!"

"You brother should have been grateful that Sarah would actually kiss someone like him," retorted an angry Clementine.

"Clementine!" called a surprised Sarah. "Don't…"

"Fuck you too you little bitch!" barked Matt. "This if your fault too! If you had just stayed out of this!" Clem glared a Matt.

"Fuck you too!" she yelled.

"Clem!"

"Eat me you stuck up bitch!" hissed Matt. "You think you're hot shit because you swear and you can shoot a gun? You're a stupid useless kid!"

"So are you!" retorted Clem.

"I could kick your sorry little ass! Anyone could! You see any other kids your age?" asked Matt. "They all died because they're weak and stupid. Just like you!"

"Shut up!" barked Clem.

"And you'll die too," said Matt with a wicked smile. "You and your ugly friend both."

"Shut up!" repeated an even angrier Clem.

"It's true," smirked Matt. "You two are only alive because your parents are dragging you along."

"You don't know anything about my parents," growled Clem.

"I know you'll die as soon as your mom is gone," retorted Matt, a wicked glee in his voice. "Because a stupid little kid like you could never survive on her own." Clem found herself fuming, wanting to scream in Matt's face how about her parents were already dead. But then, she thought of something better.

"Adam's only a year older than me," reminded Clem in a smug voice.

"Don't you ever say that freak's name again!" snarled Matt.

"He kicked your ass."

"Clementine!" exclaimed a surprised Sarah.

"You shut your fucking mouth!" demanded a boiling Matt as he leapt out his chair.

"He kicked your brother's ass too!" Matt dove for Clementine, knocking her to the ground and grabbing her throat with both hands.

"I'll choke the life out of you, you fucking bitch!" Clem struggled in vain to pry Matt's hands off her throat. She gasped for air, desperately flailing about in an attempt to free herself.

"Get off of her!" Sarah grabbed Matt's arms and pulled him off. As Clem gasped for air, Matt attempted to free himself from Sarah's grip.

"Let go of me you fugly skank!" Matt pulled his arm free and punched Sarah in the face, knocking to the floor.

"Hey!" Byron grabbed Matt by the collar and tossed him a chair. "Sit down!"

"Why don't you go head and kill me too?" blathered a hysterical Matt.

"Don't tempt me," growled Byron as he helped Sarah off the ground and moved her to one of the chairs. "Bill wants to see you first," Byron told Clementine. "Just tell him what happened."

Clementine took a few deep breaths, then headed into Bill's office, where he and Gene were waiting. She told them about how Mick tried to get Sarah to kiss him and how he wouldn't let her go. Gene seemed particularly disturbed as Clem recapped how Adam used the bucket in the bathroom to crush Mick's head.

"I knew certain things set him off, but I never thought he'd do something like that," lamented a guilt ridden Gene.

"To me it sounds like Mick started something, and Adam finished it." commented an aloof Bill. "Still, probably best to keep the boy separated from the others when he's not working, at least for the time being."

"That's it?" asked Clem, expecting a worse punishment.

"Not a whole lot else we can do," shrugged Bill.

"I thought I was making progress with him," said Gene.

"Now what was that noise I heard out in the hall a minute ago?" asked Bill.

"Matt tried to choke me," said Clementine.

"And why's that?"

"Well, he was saying all this stuff about how it was Sarah's fault and my fault, so I got mad and…" Clem paused as she realized just what she said.

"And what?" asked Bill.

"He told me kids won't survive, so I told him Adam kicked him and his brother's ass." Bill briefly snickered in response to what Clem said.

"Jesus Clementine," said an appalled Gene. "What would possess you to say something like that? And too someone who just lost the person closest too them?"

"He wouldn't leave us alone," argued a guilt-ridden Clem.

"Well it sounds like you started something there," assessed Bill. "Better be careful Matt doesn't try to finish it."

"You're not going to do something about him?" asked Clementine. "He just tried to kill me."

"Well, we can't watch you kids twenty-four, seven. So, I recommend you find a way to deal with it," suggested Bill.

"But…"

"That is unless of course, there's something else you want to tell me?" Clementine was startled by the sudden change of tone in Bill's voice. "You haven't seen anything else worth telling me, have you?"

"No," insisted Clem.

"You sure about that?" asked Bill, his voice teeming with suspicion. "Can't think of any little thing that I might need to know about? If you did, and it's something important, I might be able to help you with this Matt problem you just started."

"No," repeated Clem, feeling more nervous with each passing moment.

"You're saying no, but your face is saying yes," noted Bill. "So, one last time, there anything you want to tell me?" Clem found herself scared stiff by Bill's intense glare.

"Lloyd said he'd get me food," Clementine hastily blurted out.

"Wait, what?" asked a shocked Gene.

"When he was guarding the pen one day," said Clem. "He said he could get food for me."

"And what did you say?" asked Gene, anxious for an answer.

"I told him I was okay." Gene breathed a sigh of relief. "Byron said… He said they're not suppose to give us food."

"Um, yeah, they're not," confirmed a flustered Gene.

"Well, that's something, I guess," Bill grumbled to himself. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

"No, that's the only thing I can think of," said Clementine.

"Fine then, have it your way," shrugged Bill. "Go tell Byron to send that Matt kid in next. Then have him take you back to the pen." Clementine sat up and left Bill's office, locating Byron standing next to Tom, who were both watching Matt.

"Bill said he wants to see Matt," Clem told the pair.

"Go on." Matt glared at Byron before slowly standing up and moving down the hall.

"He also said you're suppose to take me back to the pen."

"Tom, can you handle things here?" Tom nodded at Byron. "All right, come on." Byron switched on his flashlight and grabbed his umbrella. He led Clem out into the dark and back to the pen, where Consuelo was waiting in a raincoat. Realizing she'd be the guard Carlos would shoot, Clementine found herself actually glad to see the woman.

"Bout fucking time," she grumbled as she stood up.

"You got… Wait, where the hell are you going?"

"This shit happened on your watch," said Consuelo as she wandered off. "You can stay out here in the rain until everyone's back." Byron sighed and went for the latch.

"Away from the door," he grumbled as he opened the gate.

"You're not going to search me?" asked Clem.

"Do you want me to?" asked a weary Byron.

"No."

"Me neither, just go." Clementine stepped inside and saw Carlos sitting on the bed the guns were hidden under, watching the gate intensely.

"Are you okay?" asked a worried Christa. "There's all this blood…"

"Where's Sarah?" asked Carlos in a reserved voice.

"She's at Bill's office, with Matt," answered Clementine.

"What the fuck happened in here?" asked Nick.

"Mick wanted Sarah to kiss him, and he wouldn't leave her alone."

"What?" bellowed Carlos. "I'll kill that boy."

"Adam already did."

"Wait, what? asked a baffled Christa.

"He smashed his head in with a bucket. And then Byron shot him when came back, or he was still alive and Byron shot him," explained Clementine in a shaken voice. "Either way, he's dead now."

"Holy shit," said a stunned Nick.

"Did he hurt you?" asked Christa.

"Or Sarah?" added Carlos.

"I think, he was trying to help us." Carlos looked to to Nick and Christa.

"As soon as Sarah's back. Be ready." Clem lied down on one of the beds and sighed, already exhausted from everything that's happened.

"Just a little longer," assured Christa as she sat down next to Clem. "Just a little longer Clem."

"I guess," shrugged a fatigued Clementine.

"You didn't see Adam do that to Mick, did you?" Clem nodded at Christa. "Oh, Clem."

"He said he heard people talk like that before, and he didn't understand it either," said Clem. "Right before he did it."

"Talk like what?" asked Christa.

"Mick and Matt, they were talking about Sarah and Bridget, and which one they liked better, and… they were talking about their butts for some reason. A lot. I didn't get it," said Clementine. "And I don't get why Mick wanted to kiss Sarah so bad. I thought people only did that when they like each other, and Sarah told him she didn't want to. And then he said they had to kiss a certain way, like grown ups do." Clem looked up at Christa. "Do you know what they were talking about? Or why Mick did that?" Christa just looked aside in response. "Christa?"

"Yeah, I heard you Clem," answered a troubled Christa.

"Well, do you know?" Again, Christa just sat there, clearly bothered by the question. "Christa?"

"I'm just trying to think how to explain all this to you," sighed Christa. "Okay, do you remember what I told you when you asked me where Omid and I's baby came from?"

"You said when a man and a woman love each other there's something special they can do together called sex, and it makes a baby grow in the woman's belly," answered Clementine.

"Yeah, well, people don't just have sex to make babies. They also do it because they want to."

"Why?"

"Because, when they reach a certain age, it's just something people want to do."

"What age?"

"Usually around twelve or thirteen. It's part of going through puberty and can be different for everyone. Some parts of it come at different times than other parts. But once people get that old, sex is something they think about and want to do."

"But why?"

"Its… It's an impulse. Like when you're hungry, and you want to eat. Once boys and girls go through puberty, they want to do things with each other. All though, unlike eating, they won't die it they don't."

"Is it always boys and girls?" asked Clementine. "Can boys want to do things with other boys?"

"Well, yeah. Some of them."

"And can girls do sex with other girls?"

"Well… Yeah... it's different, but..."

"Would both of them have a baby then?"

"No, only a man and a woman can make a baby together."

"Then why would they do it?"

"Because, it can feel good for them. Men and woman don't always have sex to make babies either. They can do it just because they like it."

"Away from the door." Christa stood up and Clem climbed off the bed in a hurry. Carlos reached under the bed, ready for his moment. Clem watched as Matt stepped into the pen. He briefly glared at Clementine, then collapsed onto the bed. After a brief pause he started crying into his pillow. Byron locked the gate and Carlos moved his hand back out from under the bed.

"So, did Mick want to have sex with Sarah?" asked Clem as she sat down with Christa.

"Well I wasn't here, but yeah, probably."

"He said he just wanted to kiss her though," reminded Clem. "Is kissing sex?"

"No, people usually just don't have sex. They do other things before that, and those things can feel good too. Like kissing, or touching each other. If someone really likes a person, they might enjoy just looking at them. That's probably what those boys were talking about."

"If it feels good, how come Sarah didn't want to kiss Mick?".

"Just because you want to do things like that, doesn't mean you want to do them with just anyone. If you were hungry, you wouldn't eat a rock would you?"

"No."

"And you think some foods taste good, and some taste bad right?"

"Yeah, all though I'm hungry enough where I'd eat any food." Christa sighed.

"Yeah, but there's ones you like better, right?" Clem nodded. "It can be the same with people, some you might want to be with, so you don't."

"But I don't think I've ever heard Sarah talk about wanting to kiss boys, or what they look like."

"Maybe she doesn't think about boys like that yet. Or maybe she doesn't think about it very often. Like I said, it's different for everyone. Boys tend to think more about sex than girls do."

"But what is sex?" asked Clementine. "How do you do it?" Christa sighed.

"It's... like kissing... for the whole body," explained Christa.

"Like hugging?"

"No, it's more like, kissing… with your private parts." Clementine briefly considered what Christa said, then shuddered.

"That sounds... weird," said an uneasy Clementine.

"Well, that's why you'd only want to do that with someone you really like, and who really likes you," explained Christa in a concerned voice.

"Why would you do that without someone you didn't like?" Christa took a deep breath.

"Some people, bad people, want sex so bad, that they don't care if the other person wants to or not."

"Like, how Mick didn't care if Sarah wanted to kiss him or not?" asked an uneasy Clementine.

"Yeah Clem," answered Christa.

"But… how?" asked a confused Clem. "How can they do something like that… if the other person doesn't want to? Don't you need the other person to do that?" Christa rubbed her forehead.

"You know when the guards search you when you come into the pen?" asked Christa.

"I don't like it when they do that," said Clem.

"Well… imagine if they didn't stop."

"What?"

"And that they weren't looking for weapons but they just wanted to touch you."

"Why… why would…"

"And all over your body instead…"

"Stop!" Christa looked at the the upset nine year old, breathing heavily, fear in her eyes and confusion hanging on her face.

"It's called rape," said Christa, sounding guilty as she told Clem that word. "And it's one of the worst things you can do to someone."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked a shaken Clementine.

"I'm telling you this now because I want you to know, if someone tries to touch you somewhere private, or wants you to touch them somewhere you don't, or wants you to take off your clothes, or anything strange that makes you feel uncomfortable, you need to get away from them," explained Christa carefully.

"What… what if I can't get away?" asked a nervous Clementine.

"Then you fight them," asserted Christa.

"Me?"

"Hit em, scratch em, bite em. Whatever you need to do to get away. If you have to, poke out their eyes. If it's a man, hit them between the legs as hard as you can. That really hurts them."

"What if I can't fight them?" asked an increasingly upset Clementine.

"Then scream. Make as much noise as you can. So that someone will hear you and come help."

"What if no one comes?" Christa looked aside, trying to think of answer.

"Clem…" The rolling door to the warehouse slid open and people armed with shotguns jumped into the pen.

"Nobody move!"


	53. The Nicest Prison

Clementine froze in place. She watched as Maude, Tom and Consuelo all moved into the pen, shotguns aimed at Carlos, Nick and Christa.

"Everyone, slowly raise your hands," ordered Maude. "And place them on top of your head." Clem did as instructed, as did everyone else.

"What the hell is going on?" asked an alarmed Byron as he entered the pen.

"Settle down blondie," ordered Bill as he entered the pen. "Just watch the damn gate."

"All of you. Face the fence and move towards it until you can't move any further." Clementine forced herself to walk forward, finding her legs shaking so bad she could barely remain standing. She stopped just a hair away from the fence.

"Which bed is it?" asked Bill.

"I don't know." Clem felt sick as she heard Sarah's voice.

"Sarah?" asked a shocked Carlos.

"Face the fence!" ordered Maude.

"I'm… I'm sorry dad," sobbed Sarah. "I'm…"

"Don't be sorry," instructed Bill. "If what you said is true. Then you may have just saved a lot lives." Clem listened as the crew searched the beds.

"Bill, right here," said Tom.

"Keep looking. There might be more," ordered Bill. "And Maude, start padding them down. They might have more on them."

"Stay still." Clem shuddered as Maude's hands ran down her sides. She pulled up both of Clem's pant legs, the back of her shirt and the front of her shirt. Clem flinched as Maude took off her hat, which she then tossed at Clem's feet.

Clem remained motionless, feeling sicker with every moment. She was too afraid to even look to her left or right, terrified one of the guards would shoot her if she did. After an agonizing couple of minutes, Maude ordered them to turn around slowly. Clem turned and saw Bill standing in the middle of the pen, the two pistols in his hands.

"That's one mystery solved," he commented as he admired the ornate pistol in his left hand. "And apparently one wasn't enough." Looking past Bill and the others, Clementine saw Sarah standing near the loading door, her head hanging low in shame.

"Now I've always prided myself on being a fair man," spoke Bill. "I don't ask for much. Just a little cooperation. A little patience. A little responsibility. And in exchange, I give you shelter, I give you food, I even gave a few of you a second chance." Bill glared at Carlos and Nick.

"But I guess I'm just too nice, because despite everything I've done, this is how you repay me!" Bill brandished the pistols before the group. "A god damn knife in my back! So guess what? No more mister nice guy! You're all staying right here until I'm satisfied! We'll be here all night if that's what it takes! Because no one is leaving until I know who, when, where and how these guns got in here!"

Clementine felt her heart pounding against the side of her chest.

"So, where should we start? How bout…"

"I did it." Bill turned to Carlos, who simply stared at the man.

"Well, ain't this anticlimactic?" Bill gestured to Carlos, who slowly stepped forward. "But tell me something, how'd you get into the armory?"

"It was unlocked," answered Carlos without hesitation.

"Oh really?" asked a dubious Bill. "And when was this?"

"Yesterday."

"And how you'd get these into the pen?" Carlos thought to himself.

"I'd rather not say out loud." Matt snickered, and Consuelo promptly moved to the boy.

"Wait, no. I…" Consuelo smashed the butt of her gun right into Matt's stomach, knocking the boy to his knees.

"Now, I will admit, I was a little surprised when you just walked out of here last time. Always knew Pete was restless, but you struck me as someone more practical than him," lectured Carlos. "But I don't make the same mistake twice. That's why I've had someone glued to you ever since you got back, which means even though I know you would like to, I know you couldn't have taken these. So tell me, who did?"

"No one," insisted Carlos.

"Oh really now, no one in here lifted a finger in helping you pull this off?"

"Not in the pen, no." Bill's eyes widened in surprise, an odd mixture of shock and anger in his face.

"Who was it?" growled Bill.

"It's not obvious?" Carlos's question seemed to almost confuse Bill. Looking around, Bill honed in on Byron.

"Wait, you don't think it's me?" asked a shocked Byron.

"You're the one who keeps track of all our guns," noted Bill.

"Yeah, and I'm also the one who told you about the gun you're holding right now," reminded Byron as he gestured to the ornate gun in Bill's hand. "If I were to steal a gun, would I pick the one I also told you to look for? I left it out for you last night, you can ask Hector, he saw it himself when he locked the armory. Other than him, you're the only one with the keys."

"Someone took the keys," explained Carlos. "Someone who can get close to you when they need to." Bill turned to Consuelo.

"What, really?" she scoffed. "If I wanted more guns, I'd just ask you for them," she smirked.

"She's not the only one you keep close." Bill spun around and pointed Clementine's old gun right at Carlos's head.

"No!" Consuelo intercepted Sarah as she tried to run to her father. "Please, please don't hurt him!"

"You hear her Carlos?" asked Bill. "She doesn't want me to hurt you. Maybe you should think of her." Carlos looked past Bill at Sarah, who was being held by Consuelo. "I'm going to count three, and if you don't tell me the truth, well, your daughter's becoming an orphan."

"No! Don't hurt my dad!" pleaded Sarah as she tried to escape Consuelo's grip.

"He's the one who wanted to hurt people," Bill reminded Sarah. "One." Listening to Sarah's desperate pleading, Clementine suddenly felt overwhelmed. Part of her was petrified at the notion of Carlos telling Bill she took the guns, and yet listening to Sarah, Clem found herself sickened by the idea of Carlos being killed right in front of his daughter because of something she did.

"Please, stop!" begged a hysterical Sarah. "Just stop!"

"Your dad can stop this whenever he wants," reasoned Bill. "Two." Clem looked at the horror and desperation in Sarah's eyes and could just feel the pain of losing a parent in herself, and realized she couldn't let someone else suffer that if she could stop it. Clementine opened her mouth to speak.

"I…"

"If I tell you the truth..." asked Carlos in a resigned voice.

"Yes?" Bill looked at Carlos, who stared back at the man, revealing an unyielding defiance on his face.

"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't even realize it." Bill smashed the end of his gun into Carlos's eye socket.

"No!" screamed Sarah at the top of her lungs. "Stop it! Don't hurt my dad!" Maude had to grab Sarah's other arm as she pulled one free from Consuelo's grip. Clem watched on in horror as Bill struck Carlos again, knocking him to his knees. Then again, knocking the man onto his back.

Clem found herself unable to turn away from the sickening sight of Bill repeatedly bludgeoning Carlos in front of a hysterical Sarah, tears streaming from her eyes while blood was splattering out one of her father's.

"Jesus Bill, stop!" Byron's warning did nothing to abate Bill's assault. "Hey!" Byron grabbed Bill's wrist mid-swing. "Enough!" Bill turned to Byron, directing a deathly glare at the much younger man.

"Enough?" repeated an outraged Bill. "That's enough?" Byron hastily released Bill's hand, only now realizing what he did.

"I just mean… if you kill him, he'll turn into a zombie and kill you, or someone else," reasoned Byron.

"Oh, is that why you stopped me?" remarked a sarcastic Bill as he approached Byron.

"They get the idea," rationalized a nervous Byron. "You can stop. That's all I'm saying." Clementine looked down at Carlos, who was laying motionless on the ground, the entire right side of his face bloody and beaten.

"Don't tell me you're getting soft already." Bill wiped his hand off on Byron's vest, smearing blood on it. "Or was you killing Pete just a fluke?" Bill forcibly shoved the bloody pistol into Byron's chest. "Here, try not to lose it this time you fucking idiot."

Bill tucked the other pistol into his coat, then stepped over Carlos's still motionless body as he approached Sarah, who was on her knees gasping for air. Sarah recoiled in fear as Bill knelt down in front of her, trying to scurry away, but couldn't because of Consuelo's and Maude's grip on her.

"I'm real sorry you had to see that," said Bill, not actually sounding sorry in the least. "And I hate even more to be the one telling you this, but Sarah, your daddy just ain't a good man. And not just because of this.

I've watched your father let people die, even though he could have saved them, just because he didn't want to spare the supplies for them. Your friend over there? Clementine? He left her out in the cold to bleed to death once for the same reason. And just tonight he was going to murder more people."

Sarah appeared crushed before Bill's characterization of her father. Her arms simply fell to the ground when Conseulo and Maude released them. She simply remained still, her still wet eyes glazed over and her face blank.

"I used to think your father couldn't be all bad because he was taking care of a good girl like you. But now I'm thinking you're just one more person Carlos has been hurting. I always thought there come a point when you'd find your place here and join the rest us in building a future, but your daddy just wouldn't have it. No matter what any of us told him, he kept you locked up in a cage, all because he has no faith in you."

"That's not true." Bill and Consuelo immediately descended upon Nick, who cowered before the pair as Consuelo pointed her shotgun at him.

"You got something else you want to say you yellow bellied piece of shit?" Nick just remained quiet, too afraid to respond. "Tell me something, Nick, what do you think your beloved uncle had to do to justify me keeping around a no talent nutless stain of shit such as yourself?

I'll give you a big hint. You ever notice in all the time you lived here, we never had a problem with running out of beds in the pen, or rooms for the residents? No matter what happened, we never had to make accommodations beyond what we already had. Like there was someone making sure we never found too many people, alive anyways." A look of shock crept across Nick's face as he realized what Bill was saying.

"Now don't act so surprised. Your uncle understood we couldn't feed everyone, and he understood we couldn't have scores of lost people banging on our front gate all hours of the night, so he handled things out there, so you could stay here." Nick appeared sick as he processed what Bill was telling him.

"Come now, you surely must have suspected something when he killed that woman's husband?" Bill gestured to Christa, which just confused Nick. "Oh no? That something else Carlos did?" Nick looked away in shame. "You?" Bill chuckled to himself as Nick appeared racked with guilt. "Well, I'll be goddamned. Guess you needed a warm up before you killed Greg." Bill moved back to Sarah, who was still on her knees, staring at her father.

"You did a good thing today here Sarah. I know right now it doesn't feel like it, but you did. You put everyone else's lives over your father's, and that took a lot of bravery." Sarah didn't respond to Bill. "Really, someone like you doesn't belong in here with the likes of these people." Bill stood up and turned to Byron, who seemed sickened by the situation.

"Seeing as you're the sentimental type, why don't you take Sarah here to her old room?" suggested Bill. "It's the red one closest to the armory. Get her some wood and get a fire going so she can stay nice and warm tonight. I don't think we ever cleared it out, so, it should be just like home." Byron slowly approached Sarah and looked down at the broken girl on her knees.

"Come on," urged Byron in a soft voice. "I'll walk you to your room." Sarah very slowly stood up. Byron placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her towards the gate. Looking at Sarah as she passed by, Clem thought she looked utterly destroyed. Her head hanging low, hunched over and barely shuffling forward with Byron's urging. Byron grabbed his umbrella and stepped outside with Sarah.

"And go head and kill the light," instructed Bill. "None of you are eating tonight."

"What?" exclaimed Matt. "I didn't have anything to do with this!"

"Then who did?" asked an annoyed Bill.

"I don't fucking know, ask them!"

"Well maybe you should find out," suggested Bill. "Seeing as your no good thieving brother ain't here to help you no more."

"Mick didn't steal anything!"

"So you stole the egg from Gertrude's coop then?" asked Bill.

"Wait, how did…"

"Just because you ain't paying attention doesn't mean the rest of us aren't," reminded Bill in a cold voice. "Maybe a day without food will help motivate you to keep your damn eyes open."

"And don't come looking to me this time," teased Consuelo as she headed for the loading door. "You're not nearly as handsome as your dead brother." Everyone watched as Tom and Maude closed the loading door, leaving the group in the darkness, their only company the sound of the rain hitting the pavement and the distant cracks of thunder.

"You fucking assholes…" mumbled a devastated Matt as he wandered into one of the beds. "Things weren't bad enough, you had to ruin what's left of my shitty life?" Christa did her best to navigate through the dark towards where Carlos was lying. She knelt down close to him, trying to better see him.

"He's… he's still breathing," reported a shaken Christa. "Nick, help me get him into a bed." Nick helped Christa lift Carlos off the floor and dragged him into one of the beds.

"Sa… Sarah?" mumbled a half consciousness Carlos in a desperate whisper.

"She's okay," assured Christa. "But she's not here right now."

"Wh… where?"

"They said they're taking her to her old room," answered Christa. "Just rest for now, okay?" Christa reached for one of the pillows on the other bed. She dumped the pillow out, then turned the case inside out. "Hopefully these things are a little cleaner on the inside." Christa wrapped the case around the right side of Carlos's head, tying it into a crude bandage.

"We… We should also tie him into the bed," realized a saddened Christa.

"What?" said Nick.

"In case he doesn't make it through the night." Nick sighed and felt around in the dark for the restraints attached to the bed posts. He and Christa bound Carlos's arms and legs, then retired to their own beds.

"Christa?" asked Clementine as she approached the woman's bed.

"Yeah Clem?" asked a drained Christa.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"You feeling lonely again?"

"No, I'm really scared," admitted a trembling Clementine.

"Come on." Clem crawled into the bed, moving as close to Christa as possible.


	54. The Stuff Nightmares Are Made Of

"It's so cold," complained a shivering Clem.

"Just hold onto me," instructed Christa as she pulled Clem closer.

"What… What are we going to do now?"

"I… I don't know Clem."

"This… This is all Sarah's fault," realized an angry Clementine. "If she hadn't told on us, we would have escaped."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Thinking about it now, it was a pretty reckless plan. Shooting our way out of here."

"But if it worked we wouldn't be here right now."

"No, we'd be out in the cold rain on a dark night right now. Looking for something that might not even be there anymore."

"I… I wish we were back at the cabin right now."

"Me too." Clem tightened her grip on Christa.

"Christa, when Felicity said she'd do anything, she meant sex, didn't she?" Christa sighed in response. "She didn't want to, but she was so hungry, she'd do sex with them if they gave her food."

"Yes Clem," answered a reluctant Christa. "That's what it sounded like."

"That's what Mick did with Sarah," realized Clem. "He wanted a kiss, but it was the same thing. Making someone do something they didn't want to do because they were hungry."

"Yeah, and that was wrong too."

"And, Consuelo did it to Mick." Christa looked down at Clem.

"What?"

"I think Mick had to do sex with Consuelo, to get food for Matt once," explained Clementine. "Mick was always afraid of her, and Matt said he did something once to get food, but he could never do it again."

"Jesus Christ…"

"That's rape isn't it? That's the horrible thing Byron warned me and Sarah about when he told us not to take food from the guards," realized Clementine. "Christa, If a man rapes a woman, will the woman have a baby?" Christa took a deep breath.

"Maybe. It depends on a lot of things, but, it can happen."

"So, if someone rapes me…"

"No one is going to rape you," assured Christa as confidentially as she could.

"If they did, that means a baby might grow in me," realized a horrified Clementine.

"No, you're too young for that to happen Clementine."

"Am I?" asked a trembling Clementine in disbelief. "Nobody cares that I'm a kid anymore."

"It's literally impossible Clem. You have to be a certain age before you could ever have a baby. And you're not old enough. And people don't want to have sex with children, okay?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes, again, you need to be a certain age. Think about it, Mick didn't want to kiss you, did he?"

"No."

"And you said they were talking about Bridget and Sarah, but they didn't talk about you, right?"

"Matt did. But he said he'd rather wait for me to get older than go near Sarah."

"Exactly. You're not old enough for people, good or bad, to want to do something like that with you. I'm sorry I even told you about it, I just… I just wanted you to know why Mick was doing that to Sarah, but you'll be fine. You hear me? Nobody wants to have sex with children."

"Nobody?" repeated Clementine.

"No one." Clem wanted to believe that, but something nagging the girl in the back of mind wouldn't allow it.

"What… What about a pedophile?" Christa looked at Clem in shock.

"Where did you hear that word?" asked a frightened Christa.

"Byron said he felt like a pedophile when he had to search me." A horrible feeling swept over Clementine as she realized something. "They… They're people who want to touch kids? Aren't they?"

"Clementine…"

"Not just touch them. They're people who… who want to have sex with kids, aren't they?"

"They're incredibly rare Clem. And I don't think anyone here is a pedophile."

"Lloyd is!"

"Who?"

"The old man with the weird voice. He's a pedophile."

"Why do you think that?" Christa put her hands on Clementine's cheeks and gently tilted her head upwards. Even in the dark, Clementine could see the overwhelming concern on Christa's face. "Clementine, just tell me what happened."

"When he searched me, he did it really slowly, and it felt like he was, squeezing me as he did it."

"Did he touch you anywhere the other guards didn't?"

"No. But he said he'd get me food."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him no." Christa breathed a sigh of relief. "If I had said yes, he would have raped me, wouldn't he?"

"We don't know that."

"Yes we do, that's what happens here," cried Clementine.

"God, I shouldn't have told you about any of this," realized a regretful Christa.

"Why not?" asked an indignant Clementine.

"Because now it's all you can think about it. I should have waited to tell you, or just…"

"If I didn't know this, and somebody did want to rape me, I wouldn't even know it until it was too late."

"No one is going to rape you Clem," assured Christa.

"You don't know that," sobbed Clementine.

"I know no one is going to do that right now, okay? I'm right here with you. You're fine," assured Christa in a calming voice as she rubbed the back of Clem's head.

"But…"

"No, just relax. Breath," instructed Christa. "I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe. Just remember what I told you. If you think something is going to happen, make a lot noise. One of these assholes always seems to be close, and as bad they are, even they probably wouldn't look the other way to something like that."

"Probably?" asked a nervous Clem.

"And tomorrow I'll think of something Clem. I'll figure something out. If I got to scream to everyone in the place about how there's a nine year old terrified about being raped just to find one who cares enough to do something about it, I will. But right now, you should just get some sleep."

"Christa," said Clem. "Is this why you never wanted to look for other people?"

"It's one reason." Christa gripped Clementine as tightly as she could, moving her arm up and down the girl's back, trying to calm her. Clem found it hard to relax. The horrid sights she witnessed today, their hopes of escape gone, and now a whole new danger she had never even thought about haunted her as she closed her eyes.

Clem fidgeted for a while before finally settling in place in Christa's arms. Laying there, Clem found fatigue gradually overtaking her, slowly dulling her mind until she couldn't really focus on her troubles anymore. Just as Clem thought she could maybe finally get some sleep, she felt a strong hand cover her mouth. Her first instinct was Christa was trying to wake her, but then she felt a strong arm wrapping around her own arms.

Clem watched in horror as she was plucked right out of Christa's grip. Someone lifted her right off the ground and started carrying her in the direction of the warehouse. Clementine tried screaming but the hand covering her mouth made that impossible. She tried to break free of her captor's grip, but whoever holding her was too strong. She tried kicking her legs in desperation, but they failed to connect with anything.

As she was pulled past the loading door, Clementine caught one last glimpse of Christa sleeping, before the door slid shut, leaving Clementine helpless in total darkness.


	55. Still a Prison

Clementine struggled with all her might as someone held her wrists. She started thrashing her legs about, desperate to escape.

"Help!" screamed Clementine at the top of her lungs. "Somebody help me!"

"Clementine!" called a familiar voice. "Stop!" As Clementine opened her eyes, she saw Christa standing over her, holding her wrists in place. It was morning now, and Clem found herself lying in her bed in the pen.

"Christa?" asked a confused Clementine.

"Yeah," reassured a worried Christa. "You started kicking me in your sleep, then you started screaming."

"I… I did?"

"Yeah, you must've been having a nightmare." Christa released Clementine's wrists.

"Are… are you sure?" asked a still terrified Clem. "I mean, are you sure nobody came in here?"

"Who?"

"I don't know, somebody." Clem frantically searched the area for any signs of the intruder. "You didn't hear anything?"

"Just you screaming a minute ago."

"I… I wasn't in a different bed was I?" asked Clem as she looked around. "Or, did it look like somebody put me back in this bed? Or…"

"Clementine, I still had my arms around you when you woke up," assured Christa as she sat down next to Clem. "You've been right here all night." Clem threw arms around Christa and started sobbing quietly on the woman's shoulder. "It's okay sweetie. I'm right here." Clem let go of Christa.

"I hate this place," she told Christa.

"Yeah, me too." Looking over at Carlos, Christa stood up and examined the wounded man. The crude bandage she made was bloodied now, but it did appear to stop further bleeding. "Carlos?" said Christa as she shook him gently.

"He… he okay?" asked a worried Nick. "She would untie him?"

"Carlos?" repeated Christa "Can you hear me?" Carlos moaned softly as he opened his uncovered eye.

"Where… where am I?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"You're in the pen." Carlos turned his head and buried his eye in the pillow, as if he wished he hadn't woken up.

"Give us a second, we'll untie you." Nick and Christa undid the ties around Carlos's wrists and ankles. Free to move, Carlos slowly rolled onto his slide, where he simply remained.

"Away from the door." Clem watched as Maude, Lloyd, Tom and Consuelo entered the pen, Edmund pushing his cart right behind them. "Hurry up and get your breakfast." Clem and the others got their plate and their cup of water. Clementine ate quickly, finding herself very hungry and thirsty having eaten nothing since lunch yesterday. As she ate she couldn't help but notice Matt was angrily staring at her, holding just his cup of water in his hand.

"Carlos, get up and get your water." Carlos didn't move in response to Maude's order. "I said get up!" Slowly Carlos crawled out of bed and approached Maude, who thrust a cup into his hands. He hastily drank it and handed the cup back. "Everyone finish up. Kids are with me. Lloyd takes Carlos, Harry gets Nick, and Consuelo is taking you to Bill." Maude pointed at Christa.

"Me?" asked Christa. "What for?"

"That's his business," answered Maude. "He said he wanted to see you after he finished his morning announcements."

"Come on fella," prodded Lloyd as he took a hunched over Carlos by the arm. "Bill said if you're up for it he wanted you to inventory and label the tools in the hospital."

"Matt, Clem, start marching." Clementine headed out of the gate with Matt and started moving towards where Gene taught his classes.

"Raise and shine everyone!" called Bill's voice over the megaphone. "Hopefully the weather didn't keep you up because we got plenty to do today, just like any day. However, we have a new resident to help us shoulder the burden. Our resident doctor, not content with just abandoning us, moved on to plotting against us yesterday, ready to kill any one of you who got in his way.

But don't be alarmed, his very own daughter, Sarah, stepped up and did the right thing. After months of being kept under lock and key by her cold blooded father she's come out from under his shadow to become one of us. So if you see her today, give her a real warm welcome. I'm expecting great things from her in the future."

Clementine felt her blood boiling as she listened to Bill talk. She was so angry she wasn't sure who she was mad at more. Bill for all the nonsense he was peddling in his smug voice, or Sarah for being foolish enough to trust such a horrible man.

"Remember now, when you're in a pinch, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness, because being clever doesn't do you any good, unless you also got people you can count on to make things happen."

"Go sit down and wait for Gene," instructed Maude as she opened the door to the classroom. Clementine moved to her usual table in the middle while Matt sat down on the one on the right. The two just sat their quietly for a moment before Matt opened his mouth.

"You ever notice Gene and Bridget always come in after the rest of us get here?" asked Matt in an oddly cryptic tone. "There's always those few minutes before they show up where it's just us pen rats." Matt turned towards Clementine, a vicious look forming on his face, like a predator eyeing a piece of meat.

"I… I'm sorry about what happened to Mick," apologized Clementine in a hasty fashion.

"No you're not," asserted Matt in a cold voice as he stood up.

"I am," insisted a nervous Clementine. "And I'm sorry about what I said. It wasn't…"

"You're only saying that because you're trapped in a room with me," dictated Matt as he slowly started moving towards Clementine.

"Please, I don't want to fight," begged Clementine as Matt grew closer.

"No, you don't. Because without your friend, I'd kill you." Clementine jumped to her feet but Matt grabbed her wrist before she could move away.

"Let me go!" insisted Clem as she tried to pull her hand free.

"Make me," said Matt, his voice oddly devoid of emotion. Clementine balled her other hand into a fist and tried to hit Matt, but he grabbed her other wrist before the blow could connect. Clementine struggled to break free, but couldn't.

"You… You'll get in trouble," rationalized Clementine.

"They don't care about any of us," stated Matt. "I can do whatever I want to you." Clementine gritted her teeth and kicked Matt as hard as she could right between his legs. Matt immediately let go of Clem and gripped his groin, wheezing for air while hunched over in pain. Then Clementine stepped forward and kicked him again. Matt collapsed onto the pavement, writhing in pain. Clementine watched closely as the boy struggled to even get onto his knees.

"Fucking bitch…" he choked in a pained voice. "I'll fucking kill you. I swear…" Clementine kicked Matt in the stomach knocking the boy over onto his side. Before he could recover Clementine kicked him the head. Matt covered his face with his arms so Clementine kicked him in the stomach again, then yet again.

She kept kicking the boy as hard as she possibly could, over and over, without pause, each blow making her eager to land another. Clem felt herself wanting nothing more than to kick Matt's teeth out, to break his ever bone, to bash open his empty head on the hard pavement and finally shut him up for good.

"Clementine!" Clem froze in place when she saw Sarah standing at the door, looking at the younger girl in utter shock and disgust.

"Back away!" Maude aimed her gun at Clem, who immediately put her hands up and backed into a wall. Clementine watched as Gene rushed to Matt's side, Bridget coming up right behind him.

"Holy shit," commented a bemused Bridget. "You got beat up by a little girl? You and your brother are pathetic."

"I'll fuckin' kill you!" Matt screamed at Bridget.

"Yeah right," scoffed Bridget.

"Bridget, you say another word and I'll put you to work myself for the rest of the day!" bellowed Gene.

"You can't…"

"I can and will!" Bridget recoiled in surprise when Gene yelled at her. "So sit down and shut up! Now!"

"Uh… yes, sir." Bridget meekly moved to her desk and sat down without another word.

"Is Carlos at the hospital?" Gene asked Maude.

"He is," she answered.

"All right, come on Matt, I'll…"

"Fuck you!" Matt said to Gene. "You fucking fraud! Like you give a fuck? You're the one who kept that fucking freak around!"

"Sarah, Bridget, just wait here," instructed Gene. "I'll take him to Carlos and come right back."

"What about her?" asked Maude as she gestured to Clementine.

"He said he was going to kill me," pleaded Clementine. "He started it."

"I don't care who started it," commented Gene as he headed for the door with Matt. "Maude, put Clementine to work for the rest of the morning."


	56. Hard Labor

"You do everything Richard tells you to do," dictated Maude as she led Clementine towards the edge of a wooded area just outside Shaffer's wall. "If you don't, then you getting nothing for lunch." Clementine tensed up as she heard a chainsaw revving up in the distance. "If you try to run or Richard thinks you're trying to run, he won't hesitate to shoot you," explained Maude, her voice devoid of any concern. "So don't give him a reason to."

The area was littered with dozens of tree stumps, and near one was a large middled aged man with a beard and a chainsaw. He was slicing the trunk of a fallen tree into smaller pieces working his way to near the end of the tree before turning around.

"Rich!" Richard turned the chainsaw off so he could hear Maude.

"What?" he groused.

"I brought you a helper." Maude shoved Clementine forward.

"What, are you fucking kidding me? Another fucking kid?" groused the man.

"Another?" Clementine suddenly noticed Adam picking up pieces of cut up timber around one of the bigger tree stumps. He carried them over to a large industrial cart and stacked them inside.

"Gene said put her to work, so here she is," instructed Maude.

"Why don't you tell Gene the last thing I need is more fucking useless kids," barked Richard. "Especially a fucking girl. Even that worthless shit Matt would have been better than her."

"Gene said she works, so she works," retorted Maude in an aggravated voice. "So start working." Maude marched off, leaving Clementine alone with Richard.

"Um, so…"

"Quit babbling and get your ass over here," Clementine quickly moved to where Richard was standing. The man picked up a large axe and looked down at Clem and Adam. "Cyclops, you stack the wood. Princess, you put the logs on the stump." Clementine looked at the fallen tree behind Richard, now just a line of logs waiting to be picked up. "Today!" Clementine grabbed the nearest piece of wood and strained to pick it up. It felt like it weighed a ton, and carrying it back towards the stump proved to be exhausting.

"Fucking pathetic," grumbled Richard as Clementine dropped the log onto the stump. "Set it right side up!" Richard arched the axe up as Clem moved the chunk of wood so that it was standing upright. As soon as she finished, Richard brought the axe down on the log, causing Clem to snap her hands back in surprise as it was split into two. She watched as Richard quickly hacked the halves into quarters.

"Well, where's the next one?" yelled Richard. "Don't just stand there, get moving! There should be another piece ready by the time I'm done." Clementine rushed back to the next piece of wood and grabbed it. The second one felt even heavier than the first, and it was a slightly longer walk than the first. She dumped it on the stump, righted it, then rushed back for the next piece.

"Pick up the pace!" barked Richard as he chopped the wood.

"I'm doing my best," muttered an already tired Clementine as she strained to carry the next log to the stump.

"Your best is shit," commented Richard as Clem dropped the next piece onto the stump. "Ya pampered little princess, probably never worked a day in your life," Clementine straightened the third piece and went for the fourth. Richard finished hacking the latest log while Clem struggled to even lift another piece.

"Put some effort in it," barked Richard. "Some hard work won't kill you."

"I'm trying," cried Clementine. "My arm is…"

"My back's killing me and I'm not pissing and moaning about it like you," lectured Richard as Clem managed to lift the piece of wood. "They spoil you kids rotten, you know that? Whining about every little thing." Clementine clumsily dropped the wood onto the stump. "My old man worked me harder than this when I was half your age. Did me nothing but good," Clem righted the piece. "You should be grateful, not bitching."

Clementine stumbled to the next closest piece and grabbed hold of it. She tried with all her might, but she only managed to lift the next piece of wood a few inches before dropping it. Clem collapsed onto the log, gasping for her air.

"Did I say you could take a break!" shouted Richard.

"I can't lift it!" yelled Clementine. "It's too heavy…" Richard swung his axe into the stump, imbedding it into the wood.

"Oh, it's too heavy? I'm sorry I don't have any lighter wood lying around for you princess!"

"Maybe Adam could do this and I…"

"Maybe you can do what I told you to do and he can do what I told him to!" insisted Richard. "He was carrying and stacking wood before you even got here, twice as much as you're doing, and he didn't complain! Probably the only one of you shits with any fucking manners." Clementine looked to Adam, desperate for some kind of help or comfort. But Adam merely stood next to Richard, the same disinterested look in his eye he usually had as he stared off into space.

"I just can't do it…" said a fatigued Clementine in a pitiable voice.

"Well then, I guess he and I are just going to sit here with our thumbs our asses because of you, and when Maude asks me what happened, I'll tell her, 'It was that new girl. Refused to work. Cost us a whole day of lumber just because she's lazy'. And that'll cost you your meal privileges for the day."

Clementine dreaded going even longer without eating. She had missed three out of her last five meals and she already felt like she was starving. Clem reached down to pick up the wood again, but it slipped out her grip, rolling a few inches away. Clementine gasped for air. Between the biting cold, her aching muscles and the hunger pains in her stomach, she felt like just collapsing.

"That's the problem with your generation. Things get the least bit hard and you just give up," groused a disgusted Richard. "I'll just call Maude now and tell her you refuse to even try to work." Looking down at the log, Clementine felt it might as well be a whole tree. She watched in despair as Richard picked up his radio. Turning back to log, Clementine hastily tried to grab it again, but the sudden shift in weight caused her to fall forward onto the log, which rolled out from under her.

Pulling herself out of the cold mud, Clementine looked at the log a few inches away and realized something. She scrambled over to it and started pushing it, rolling it towards where Richard was sitting.

"Well what's this?" asked an annoyed Richard as he put his radio away. "I thought you said you can't do it?" Clementine couldn't even find the strength to answer him. She merely concentrated on trying to lift the log onto the stump after Richard pulled his axe out of it. It took pretty much every bit of strength she had, but she managed to get it on the stump.

"About fucking time." Clementine stumbled back for the next piece, finding her lungs aching as she did so. She rolled the next log towards the stump, then gritted her teeth as she hoisted it upwards. "Goddammit..." Clementine watched as Richard walked away from the stump, his axe still in hand. "Fucking chainsaw dragging em out of the woodworks."

Clementine looked back towards the fallen tree and saw three walkers wandering towards it. She didn't even notice them until just now, and suddenly found herself hastily searching the area for more, paranoid there were others she missed. Seeing nothing, Clementine slid down the stump and sat down, desperate for whatever little rest she could get.

She watched Richard casually chop one walker's leg with the axe, causing it to fall over, then another. For the third one he simply aimed for the head, killing it with ease, then returned to the first two and killed them while they clumsily attempted to crawl to them. He then removed a sports bottle clipped to his belt and pulled out what looked like a bundle of cotton from inside. Richard then resealed bottle and started shaking it, making an annoying rattling sound.

Looking away from Richard, Clementine noticed a blue bird sitting in a branch on a tree just above her. It tweeted to itself a few times and hopped across the branch. Clementine found it mesmerizing sight for some reason, perhaps because she so rarely saw animals anymore. She watched it closely for a few seconds, as it just seemed to move about, free of any worries, before flying away and out of sight.

"God damn lurkers, fucking everything up," mumbled Richard as he marched back towards the stump. Turning to Adam, Clementine saw the boy sitting by the cart, staring off into space like he usually does. He didn't look nearly as tired as she did, but he certainly didn't look happy either.

"You're sure you don't want to leave this place?" asked Clem.

"Yes," answered Adam in a quiet voice.


	57. Wage Gap

Clementine strained as she pushed the cart back into the warehouse. Even with it being empty now and Adam helping, it felt like it weighed a ton. After hours of rolling logs, stacking wood, pushing the cart, re-stacking the wood in a cargo container in the yard, and being repeatedly yelled at every step of the way for everything she did wrong, Clementine felt ready to just fall over and die.

"Hustle up you two," ordered Richard as the pair slid the cart into place near the entrance. "You've made me late enough as it is." Clementine followed after Richard, more on instinct than anything at this point. She long had given up ever trying to speak in front of him, knowing anything she'd say would be met with scorn and derision. She followed after the man, not really looking at where she was going. It wasn't until Richard stopped moving did Clem bother looking around.

"Did they work?" Hearing Maude's voice, Clementine realized she was actually standing in line for lunch.

"The girl did a shit job from start to finish." Clementine felt what little strength she had left draining out of her body. She could barely remain standing, with her legs wobbling at just the thought of getting nothing to eat after working so hard. "But she finished, so, sure, whatever."

Richard took his food and headed for the table in the middle. Adam took his next, greedily gulping it while moving off to the side. Clementine rushed to the window next, impatiently watching for Cookie or Edmund to hand her a bowl. When she didn't immediately see them, she had a horrible feeling she wasn't getting one, but then she saw Cookie's hand.

Clementine snatched the bowl and rushed to the nearest seat. She immediately started chugging the soup, nearly crying in joy when she felt the warm delectable liquid move down her throat into her empty stomach. She set the bowl down, having to take a deep breath to catch her breath after swallowing so much.

"Jesus, Clementine…" Clem looked up and found Christa and Nick sitting across from her, troubled looks on both their faces. "What happened to you?"

"Wood," answered a exhausted Clem as she looked at what little soup she had left. "Lots of wood." Clementine finished the last of her soup and set the bowl down. She was about to get her water when she noticed Nick was looking around.

"What…" Nick held up his hand and Clem went quiet. She watched him move closer to Christa, then put his hand on his bowl. Looking around, Clem noticed Nick was staring at Maude. As she walked past the table, Nick quietly slid his bowl towards Clem, then pulled her empty one towards him. Christa nodded to Clem, who quickly downed what was left in Nick's bowl. The trio waited in silence after Clem set the bowl down, waiting for someone to say something, then breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"I can't believe they made you work," stated an outraged Christa.

"I got in a fight with Matt," explained Clem as she filled her empty bowl with water. "So Gene said I had to work instead." Clementine looked around the table for anyone else sitting near-by. "Um, Matt's not here, is he?"

"No," answered Christa.

"Neither's Carlos," noted Nick. "Probably because they're not feeding them." Clementine watched as Gene, Bridget, Ed and Sarah approached the kitchen shack.

"I can't wait to drive out on the open road," beamed an exuberant Bridget as she collected her food. "It's gonna be awesome."

"Yeah, well, that'll be a while with the way you were handling the truck today," commented Ed as he waited for his meals. "Should take a cue from Sarah and slow things down a bit."

"Her? She's four years younger than me," scoffed Bridget. "And she never drove anything before today."

"And yet I'd feel a helluva lot more comfortable with her behind the wheel than you." Sarah took her bowl of soup and moved away from the shack.

"Sarah," called Gene. "You've got a bowl of canned goods coming too." Sarah stepped back to the counter and watched as a smaller bowl of corn was set out for her. Sarah just stared at it, not sure what to think of it. "Go on. It's yours." Sarah slowly picked up the bowl and then started moving towards the table Clementine was sitting at.

"Sarah, you need to sit with the rest of us," explained Gene as he placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "It's not a big deal for me, but Maude will turn it into one, so come on." Clementine noticed Sarah looking at her, a desperate look in the older girl's eyes. Clementine looked at the two bowls of food Sarah was holding and just glowered at her. Sarah hung her head in shame and went with Gene.

"I had to work all morning just to get a bowl of soup," recounted a bitter Clem before taking a sip of water. "And I'm the smallest, weakest person here." Clementine scratched her bandaged arm.

"And your hurt…" added Christa.

"It's bothering me again," said Clementine. "But it's not as sore before. Now it itches, and it feels like the stitches are pulling on my skin."

"They're probably ready to come out," explained Christa.

"They have to come out?" asked a frightened Clementine.

"Don't worry Clem, it's not nearly as bad as putting them in."

"I'm more worried about having to carry wood that I can barely lift again."

"You won't have to do that again."

"You don't know that," stated a saddened Clementine.

"Yes I do. I talked to Bill today. He told me when my baby is born, he'll move me out of the pen," said Christa. "And he said as long as he thinks I'm cooperating, you'll come with me. He also said Consuelo and Lloyd won't be guarding the pen anymore. You'll be okay, you just got to hang in there for a little while longer."

"What… What if I don't get to come with you?" asked a forlorn Clementine.

"That's not going to happen," asserted Christa. "They can't make me leave you."

"Yes they can," noted a miserable Clementine. "They can do whatever they want to us." Christa took hold of Clementine's hands.

"I'm going to do everything I possibly can to make sure you and I stay together," promised Christa. "I'm not leaving you Clem." Clementine knew Christa meant what she said, but it didn't make her feel any better. It seemed liked whatever they wanted didn't matter in this place.

"I'm really tired," Clem told Christa. "I think I'm just gonna lie down on the ground for a little while."

"Do whatever you feel like you need to sweetie," said Christa. "I'll be right here." After finishing her water and returning her bowl, Clementine moved under the table and lied down on the cold pavement. It wasn't very comfortable, but it still felt nice to just rest for a little while. Looking across from her, she noticed Adam lying under the tables on the other end. She never really thought much about what he did at lunch, but now she knew, he was resting for more work. All though, she still couldn't understand why he sleeps under his bed.

As Clem lied there, she watched people's feet coming and going. It was actually kind of peaceful, being hidden from sight. She heard Maude call her one minute warning, and watched as people scrambled. She figured someone would eventually call for her. One by one, people left, even Adam. Eventually it was just her under the table, and a single pair of legs at the table furthest from.

"Hey down there." Clementine heeded the friendly sounding voice and came out from under the table. She saw Cookie standing over her, a welcome smile on his face. "Whatcha doing down there precious?"

"Trying to rest," answered a decidedly unfriendly Clementine. "I spent all morning toting wood in the cold even though my arm is bothering me, because if I didn't they'd starve me to death."

"Oh, precious, they wouldn't…"

"Yes they would," snapped Clementine. "Do you really think they wouldn't?" Cookie looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "You think because I'm a kid you can just lie to me, and make everything better when it's not?" Cookie sighed.

"Look, I just cook the food here. I…"

"Yeah, and Gertrude just takes care of chickens. But nobody here takes cares of the kids, because we're just lazy... ungrateful... shits," ranted a resentful Clementine.

"Now don't talk like that. You…"

"What the fuck do you care?" asked an increasingly angry Clementine. "That's how most of them talk to us. You think just because you don't say horrible things to me that I'll think you actually care about me?" Cookie pulled out a chair and sat down.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked in a resigned voice. "You think I don't know how fucked up it is they're working you kids the way they do? Or how they won't feed certain people some days? I got to make every meal in this place, so I always know when someone is not eating.

The worst part is waiting to find out if someone is going to eat again. When someone doesn't eat for a day, I can hope maybe they will tomorrow. They don't eat for two days, then I figure it means they're gone. They don't tell me anything. Right now I'm wondering if Mick, Matt and Carlos are still alive or not."

"Matt and Carlos are, Mick's not," answered Clementine.

"Jesus," Cookie said to himself. "What'd he do?"

"Adam bashed his head in with a bucket, right in front of me," recounted Clem.

"What?" Cookie looked at Clem in disbelief, who just nervously nodded at the man. "Good lord."

"Why are you even talking to me?" asked Clementine.

"I'm suppose to give you a cooking lesson today," explained Cookie.

"They don't actually care if we learn anything or not," said Clementine.

"Well, consider it a break from work then," shrugged Cookie. "I'll get my things, you get your friend, and we'll get started."

"My friend?" asked a confused Clementine.

"Sitting over there on the other table." Clementine looked over and saw Sarah resting her head on the table.


	58. Only Temporary

Clementine couldn't stop staring at Sarah, still outraged over what she did. She betrayed everyone, and was rewarded for it. Being freed of the pen, given more to eat, while having to do less than before. But the thing that angered Clementine most was the radio attached to Sarah's waistband. One look at the stickers on it, and Clem knew it was hers.

Cookie had been going on about iron skillets, and how you only have to occasionally season them with vegetable oil, which is good because they have no butter anymore. Clementine really could care less what he was saying. None if it actually seemed to matter. As if they would ever get the chance to use any of the stuff he was teaching them.

"Cookie?" called Gertrude's voice over the radio. "Is this the right channel?"

"Yeah girl, what's up?" asked Cookie.

"I wanted to give you a heads up. Bill said one of my hens has gone too long without laying and well, I'm gonna have to butcher her," reported Gertrude. "Just wanted to make sure you got everything you need to cook chicken tomorrow before I do."

"Yeah, I'll be looking forward to it," assured Cookie. "Seeing as we still got a lot of rice, I could do grilled chicken and rice if Bill signs off on it. Maybe Lauren has more vegetables ready for us."

"Good luck prying them away from her," chuckled Gertrude. "I'll have the bird ready for you tomorrow after lunch, and we'll all be eating chicken for dinner." Cookie clipped his radio back to his belt. Turning back to Clem and Sarah, he couldn't help but notice the utter content on Clem's face and the unrelenting misery on Sarah's. "Umm, you girls want to know why people call me Cookie?"

"Cause you're a cook?" guessed an uninterested Clementine.

"No actually, It's old childhood nickname of mine," explained Cookie. "Cookie was apparently the first word I ever said, and according to my parents, the only word I knew for a long time, so with me saying cookie all the time, they just started saying it back to me and it kinda stuck.

My name is William actually, and I was a delivery man before the outbreak. But I went camping with my pa a lot, got used to cooking with just a skillet over an open flame, and I remembered a lot of things my ma taught me around the kitchen, and when I told Gene, he thought I could be the cook, and since there's already someone else named William here, I figured, Cookie will work." Looking back at Clem and Sarah, Cookie saw absolutely no change in either girl's face.

"Um, well…" Cookie rubbed the back of his head. "You know, let me get one of my grills, I think you might find that a bit more interesting." Cookie left the girls at the table while he headed back into his shack. Sarah looked up at a still angry Clementine, then looked away.

"Cl… Clementine?" asked Sarah, too ashamed to look the younger girl in the eyes. "Have… have you seen my dad? Is he…"

"Whatta you care?" snapped Clementine.

"Wh...what?" asked a confused Sarah.

"Do you care about what happened to me today?" asked Clementine.

"Of course I do," professed a guilt stricken Sarah.

"Then why did you tell!" Sarah flinched as Clementine raised her voice. "You ruined everything!"

"I… I…"

"Matt's trying to kill me! He probably would have this morning if I didn't stop him! But because I did, I had to carry tons of wood I could barely lift because they'll starve me if I don't! And they'll probably make me do it again tomorrow while you're getting fat on chicken!" Clementine was shocked to see Sarah break down and start crying hysterically. Clem had seen Sarah cry several times before, but how suddenly and loudly the older girl started bawling in this instance horrified Clem. It sounded like Sarah was actually suffocating.

"Jesus, Sarah, girl, what's wrong?" asked Cookie as he came running out of his shack. Clementine found herself deeply regretting everything she just said as she saw Sarah cry her heart out. It was such a miserable sight, it made Clementine feel like crying herself.

"Sarah," started a penitent Clementine. "I'm…" In a flash, Sarah took off running. Clementine just watched in disbelief as one of the few people left in the world who actually cared about her disappeared from view, because of what she said. With that Clementine felt utterly alone. Looking up at the drab overcast sky, she thought all she needed now was for it to start raining again.

"What happened?" asked Cookie as he sat down next to Clem.

"I… I said…" Clementine felt her chest tighten. She could barely breath as she thought about what she just said.

"Does this have something to do with Carlos?" asked Cookie. "I heard Bill say this morning he was plotting something, and Sarah stopped him?"

"She was probably afraid he was going to hurt someone," realized Clementine. "But Bill ended up hurting Carlos over it, right in front of Sarah."

"Hurt how?" Clementine turned to the man, clearly already disturbed by what little he heard.

"You don't want to know," assured Clem.

"God dammit…" Looking at Cookie, Clementine noticed how bothered he was by what she said. A little like Gertrude, she was beginning to think he did actually care about other people, and regretted being so rude to him. Seeing him sit there, hunched over in his chair, Clem realized he had little more control over things then she did.

"Do you really want to help us?" asked Clementine in a sincere voice.

"I'd like to, but…"

"You're just the cook," finished Clem in disappointment. She started scratching the bandage on her arm again, then realized something. "Could you at least take me to Carlos?"

"I can't do that. I…"

"Please?" begged Clementine. "My arm has stitches in it that need to come out. Can't you, make up an excuse or something?"

"I don't know, it would depend on who's watching Carlos today," explained Cookie. "If it's Maude you can just forget it. She never bends the rules."

"I think it's Lloyd," recounted Clem in a bitter voice.

"He's as about as nice as the crew gets, and he's usually laid back." Clem found herself annoyed at hearing Lloyd being called nice after what she had discovered, and didn't relish having to go through him to get to Carlos. But she saw little other option.

"Can you please try? I don't think Sarah's coming back, so I'm the only person you need to take care of right now." Cookie sighed.

"I can try, but I can't guarantee anything."

"Please try." Cookie sighed and stood up.

"Come on." Clementine followed Cookie. She felt nervous as they moved across the yard, fearful of running into one of the other members of the crew. As they approached the hospital container, Clem saw Lloyd standing out front and frowned.

"Hello there Cookie," greeted Lloyd in a friendly voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," assured Cookie. "Is Carlos in there?"

"Yeah, he's been shuffling around in there," explained Lloyd. "Don't think he's feeling all that well though. Did you need him to do something?"

"I'm all right, but…" Cookie looked down at Clem. "The girl here has some stitches she needs looking at, and I was thinking Carlos could check her out real quick."

"Now you know the rules Cookie, the hospital is off limits to people in the pen unless Bill or Gene says otherwise." Clementine frowned as she realized Lloyd wasn't going to let her see Carlos. "Sorry there darling." Lloyd's smile made Clementine want to scream. She thought about yelling in the older man's face about how she knew why he was smiling at her. But then she got another idea.

"Please," begged Clementine in the most pitiable voice she could summon. "My arm really really hurts, and I'm worried something's really wrong with it, and if someone doesn't look at it, I could get really sick and die." Clementine covered her eyes with her hands and started making crying noises, something she found fairly easy to do.

"Now, now darling, don't cry." Unhappy with that response, Clementine decided to start crying even louder, doing her best to imitate Sarah's horrible breakdown from earlier. "All right, all right, just calm down." Clementine started crying softer, but refused to stop out right until she got the answer she wanted. "Okay, as long as he just looks at it. He can't use any of our supplies, but if he just checks it, that should be okay."

"Thank you," said Clementine as sweetly as she could, trying not to let her disgust for Lloyd show.

"Cookie, stay out here with me," instructed Lloyd. "If someone else needs to see Carlos I can send you in to cover her being in there."

"All right," said Cookie. "Go on now." Lloyd cracked the door to the container and Clementine slipped in. Hunched over a table was Carlos, slowly writing something on a pad of paper. The pillow case covering the left side of his face had been replaced with a small bundle of bandages held in place with an eye patch.

"Carlos?" The man set his pen down and turned his head.

"Clementine?" he asked in a quiet voice. "What… why are you here?"

"Cookie brought me here because the stitches in my arm are bothering me," explained Clem. "Lloyd said it be okay if you looked at them, as long as you didn't use any of the supplies."

"Oh…" Carlos turned back to pad of paper in front of him. "Okay then."

"Um, you don't have to, if you don't feel good," assured Clementine, suddenly feeling that her troubles paled in comparison to Carlos's.

"Just sit down," instructed Carlos. "I could use a break from this anyways." Carlos pushed the pad of paper aside.

"What were you doing?" asked Clementine as she sat down.

"Writing instructions for… which tools do what… and as many medical procedures as I could think others could do without me." Carlos begin to unravel Clementine's worn bandage.

"Bill wants to get rid of you," realized Clementine.

"Of course," concurred a defeated Carlos.

"Then why do it?" asked Clementine. "Why make it easier for him?"

"We saw what happened the last few times I didn't make things easy for him," mused Carlos. "Besides, once I'm gone, and there's no doctor, if anything happens to Sarah, these could make the difference between her living or not." Clementine felt sick as she realized Carlos had already resigned himself to his fate. "When I heard someone crying just now, I thought it may have been her, and I'd get to see her again."

"It was just me," informed Clementine. "I had to convince Lloyd to let me see you. Christa says my stitches are probably ready to come out." Removing the bandage, Clementine looked at the fresh scar running across her arm, and the pieces of fishing line still imbedded in her skin.

"I can remove the stitches. It won't require anything but tools I already have," assured Carlos. "You'll have to be patient though. Between the injury, and the lack of food, I've had a little trouble with simple tasks today."

"It's fine." Clementine watched as Carlos took some tweezers and scissors. His hand shook a little as he grabbed the first stitch with the tweezers, then snipped it with the scissors. Clementine twitched a little as she felt the stitch being pulled out of her skin.

"It was just suppose to be temporary," Carlos mumbled to himself.

"The stitches?" asked Clementine.

"No, well, them too, yes. But I meant, this place, Shaffer's, all of it, it was all suppose to be temporary. The cities were overrun so quickly, but then I saw dozens of people gathering here from the road, and thought the same thing most of them did, that we'd be safe here.

In those first few days, we all thought we just needed to wait until rescue came. When it didn't come, Carver started making preparations to stay longer, thinking with the way things are, it might take weeks to be rescued. When it didn't come then, people grew restless. Some left, and some of them came back later, wanting to take what was still here. So, Carver made preparations for that.

As the months went by, Carver found more and more that needed to be done. We needed a wall, to keep things out. We needed a pen, to keep certain people in. Then we needed a fence on top of the wall, to keep everyone in. Then we needed to bring people out there, back here, so we know they wouldn't be lying in wait for us later. And with every change, I kept telling myself, it's all just temporary."

"You told Sarah that Bill changed," said Clementine. "Was that true?" Carlos slowly shook his head.

"He hasn't changed, he's never cared what happens to the rest of us. Even in those first few days, when he was breaking open the shipping containers, he wasn't looking for food for the rest of us, he was looking for things he wanted, like a boy opening his Christmas presents early. Where as the rest of us were always praying for this nightmare to end, Carver always seemed comfortable with it.

Back then, we didn't really think much of it, or simply didn't have time to think about it. Every day it seemed like there was a new challenge, and Carver was always quick to delegate tasks, and it always seemed like things that needed to be done. Over time, it just became routine. Things did eventually change, but Carver never did, he's still just running us about for his own whims. We just know it now."

"Then why is he still in charge then?" asked Clementine. "Nobody seems to like how he runs things. Why hasn't someone else done something?"

"There's George for one," reminded Carlos. "Pete once told me that Carver was the only one he would listen to, and even then, not always. Even without Carver, we'd still have George. Beyond them we have the rest of the crew. There's no telling what would some of them would do if left to their own devices. Ultimately, Pete thought it was safer for us and everyone else, if we just left when we could.

The other reason people still follow Carver was the same reason I did for so long. Because I had something to lose for defying him. For most, it's probably just their own safety, but for me, it was Sarah's. When this place couldn't even allow a kind girl like Sarah to live peacefully anymore, it had nothing left to offer me." Carlos seemed to be on the verge of crying. "She must be so scared right now…"

"She is," commented a guilty Clementine.

"I can't even imagine," said Carlos. "She's always been so sensitive."

"She told me about what happened," said Clementine. "In the second grade."

"Did she?" Clem nodded. "I was called in for an emergency that afternoon and didn't discover what happened until I got home late that evening. She was just lying in bed, still crying to herself. She wouldn't even tell me what happened, I had to call her school the next morning to find out.

I remember thinking to myself, how could so many, be so cruel, to an innocent girl who had done nothing wrong to any of them?" Carlos looked at the remaining stitches on Clementine's arm and sighed. "Living here, I told myself, I'd be cruel as long as it meant Sarah could remain kind.

I lived like that for so long, I figured that's simply what everyone was like now. You simply become cruel, just to survive, and if I wanted to protect Sarah, I'd have to be crueler. Seeing you, aim that gun at Nick, I assumed you must be cruel. And yet, you've been kinder to Sarah than anyone." Clementine looked away from Carlos in shame.

"Actually… I got mad and yelled at her just before I came here." Carlos sighed deeply. "She ran off crying before I could tell her I was sorry."

"Why?" asked Carlos, merely disappointed, instead of angry.

"It's just… everything. With, what happened with her telling Bill and…"

"Don't be angry at her," instructed Carlos. "Save your anger for Carver. Sarah's just the latest person to fall victim to his manipulative scheming. I still don't know how she even knew about the guns."

"That's my fault too. She was scared she was going to starve, because they weren't going to feed her tomorrow. I told her we had guns, and we were going to escape. Then she got upset when she found out you'd have to shoot Byron. You told me not to tell her, and I did it anyways. It's… this is all my fault," realized a saddened Clementine. "Not hers."

"Like I said, blame Carver. But if you must blame someone for what Sarah did, blame me," suggested Carlos. "She must have told Carver what I was doing for the same reason she didn't tell me about what she did for you, because she saw something wrong and just wanted to help.

I should have been honest with her. Told her how Byron killed Walter, and how he'd kill her if he ever had to, and this was our only chance to leave this place. But I didn't. And I want to say, it's because I didn't want to scare her, but truthfully, I think I just didn't want her to be scared of me."

"Was is true what Bill said?"

"What did he say?"

"After he hit you, he told Sarah about what happened to me, and the he said he saw you let people die, just because you didn't want to waste the supplies." Carlos turned away from Clementine. "He made you do it, didn't you?"

"Like a lot of things here, it started simple enough. In those first few days, I tried saving as many as I could. Then we found out if you die in any way, you come back as a lurker. I spent hours trying to stop one man's bleeding, but couldn't save him. And then he came back, and killed one I had saved. After that, Carver said not to treat anyone with a likely fatal injury, ruling it as too big a risk, and I told myself, I couldn't save everyone.

As our initial supplies dwindled, Carver told me to not treat anyone who will require extensive ongoing care, and I told myself, it was just triage, I had to save those with the best chances.

Then eventually he made it clear I was to euthanize anyone with an injury that would prevent them from working for any major length of time, and by then, I just told myself, there was nothing I could do. If I didn't kill them, Carver would find someone else who would. It's probably the same thing a lot of people tell themselves now."

"Carver also told Nick that Pete killed people, just because there wasn't room," explained a saddened Clementine. "Is that true?"

"I wouldn't know that, but I wouldn't be surprised. Talking to some the crew, everyone always worked in pairs on supply runs, except Pete or George. Supposedly it's because they scouted areas for the crew to work in, but if they were killing survivors too, then it'd be easier to conceal if there were no other witnesses."

"That also means Byron really did kill Walter," said Clem in a quiet voice.

"He came to me the morning after Walter left, needing me to stitch a wound on his shoulder. He said he got it that morning, but it had clearly been there a little longer. Looking at it, I'm almost certain someone tried to stab him in the back."

"You think Walter did it?"

"Perhaps Walter understood my warning, attacked Byron before he could attack him. Or maybe he did it to Byron while struggling for his life against the man."

"Maybe he got away then?"

"Maybe, but in either case, it means Byron was meant to kill someone who never harmed anyone else, at least, not before then."

"Maybe… maybe he didn't do it," suggested a hopeful Clementine. "He actually stopped Bill when he was hitting you. He didn't shoot Sarah when George told him to. Maybe, maybe he hurt himself, to make it look like Walter fought him off so Bill would believe him."

"Or maybe, he hated the idea of killing a good man, only to go through with it anyway," said Carlos in a sentimental voice.

"Did you have to do that?"

"Yes," answered Carlos in a quiet voice. "The walls, the fence, the pen, our homes, Cookie's shack, the rain water collectors, the windows on the tops of the containers, the fireplaces inside them, the locks and latches on the doors, the gate. He built them all."

"Who did?"

"A man named Winslow," answered Carlos. "He was an older man, worked with metal nearly his whole life. Welding, galvanizing, scrapping, molding. He could build most anything with an acetylene torch and enough scrap.

As we emptied the containers, he was the one who realized they could still be useful to us. He devised most everything that helped turn this shipping yard into a safe haven, and more often than not, by his own hands. He was a brilliant man, he gave us so much, and never even asked for anything in return."

"And Bill wanted you to kill him?"

"Eventually, Winslow built everything we needed, or, everything Carver thought we would ever need. So he joined the crew, so he could keep helping. Went on the supply runs. Then one day, they brought him to me, with a severely broken leg. I set it the best I could, but it would never heal entirely, not with what little I had to mend it with, but he would have lived…"

"But Carver didn't want him to?"

"He told me, that it was kinder to give him a painless death, then to let him suffer. But he wasn't suffering, and even if he was, it wasn't why he told me to do it. Winslow was simply no longer any use to him, so he wanted him gone, the same man who had given so much to so many. And I obliged him, simply because I thought, if I didn't, someone else would."

Carlos finished reapplying Clementine's bandage. "Normally I'd give you a fresh bandage, but they'd notice that. So you should just keep this one."

"You're already done?" asked Clementine.

"Yes, just keep your arm covered a little longer, let the spots where the stitches were heal up completely." Carlos carefully peeled back the bandage on Clementine's forehead. "These can come off. I'm surprised they've stayed on this long." Carlos removed the small brace taped to Clementine's nose. She had actually forgotten she was still wearing it.

"Well, that's it then." Carlos tossed the brace aside. "If you see Sarah again, tell her I love her, and that I'm sorry, for everything."

"Why… why not tell herself?" asked a confused Clementine.

"I'm honestly don't know if they'll let me live long enough to see that happen," explained a desolate Carlos. "Perhaps if I do everything they say, they'll let me stay long enough to see her again."

"You…" Clem looked over at the door, then leaned in closer to Carlos. "You're not going to try and escape again? I could get more guns and…"

"He'd be ready for it," mumbled to Carlos. "And even if we did escape, what would we do then? Like Nick said, there's nowhere to go, especially if another herd is coming."

"A herd?"

"Byron and Harry left early this morning to survey the Savannah area. Sometimes, thunderstorms lure large numbers of lurkers out of the city, and bring them to this area. If that happens, there'd be no point in escaping. Even if they keep going, they leave lurkers behind everywhere. Last time it happened, it took the crew working every day for a week to merely clear out areas they had already made safe before. What chance would we have?" Clementine thought to herself, then leaned in close to Carlos.

"I know a way to get past the walkers." Carlos looked to Clementine in surprise, he quickly eyed the door, then turned back to her.

"How?" he whispered.

"If you cover yourself in… that gross stuff they're made out of, you smell like them, and then they don't notice you anymore." Carlos briefly eyed the door again, then turned back to Clem.

"You're certain?"

"It's how I got out of Savannah," whispered Clem. "The herd won't be a problem, if we can just get out of here."

"The herd is how we can get out of here," realized a reinvigorated Carlos. "After the first time a herd came near, someone shot a lurker over the wall, brought tons of them to us, nearly overwhelmed Shaffer's. Now Carver forbids the use of guns when a herd is near. He actually makes the crew surrender them so they can be locked in the armory to prevent an accident."

"What about the truck they use to block the gate?" asked Clementine.

"They don't do that before a herd passes through. The noise of starting it draws all the stragglers right to the gate the next day, makes it difficult for them to deal with. If a herd comes through, you could slip out again, open the gate to the pen, and…"

"We could just walk right out," realized Clementine.

"Now if we could actually just be lucky enough for a herd to come before Carver kills us."

"It looks like it's going to storm again tonight."

"Pray for it to move north, across Savannah and right towards it." Carlos checked the door once more. "Next time you see Sarah, tell her, if a herd comes, wait for Carver to lock down the warehouse, then sneak out and wait for us by the pen." Clem nodded. "You'd better go, they're probably waiting for you." Clementine hopped out of seat and went right for the door, pushing it open.

"Well there she is," noted Lloyd as he saw Clementine emerge from the container. "Was starting to wonder if we would ever see you again."

"You feel any better?" asked Cookie.

"Yeah," nodded Clem. "A lot actually."

"Well that's good," smirked Lloyd. "Now, put your arms out so…"

"I don't want you touching me," hissed Clementine.

"Well darling, I gotta search you for…"

"I don't want you doing it," dictated Clementine.

"Now, is that anyone to talk to someone who just did you a favor?" asked an offended Lloyd. "Why the hostility?"

"You're a pedophile." Lloyd's eyes nearly bugged out of his head upon hearing that.

'Wait, what?" Cookie turned to Lloyd, shocked by what Clem just said.

"Now, little lady," said Lloyd, trying to sound calm. "Do you even know what that word means?"

"It means somebody who has sex with kids," noted Clem.

"I'm not doing that, I just gotta search you for…"

"You liked touching me though," noted an angry Clem. "That's why you offered me food after the last time. You wanted to do more. You… you wanted to rape me, didn't you?"

"Offered her food?" Cookie stared at Lloyd, anger boiling onto his face as the older man just stood there, paralyzed by the accusation. "Don't tell me you…"

"I… I don't know what's she talking about," assured a very nervous Lloyd.

"Yes you do," retorted Clem.

"There's only one reason anyone on the crew offers people in the pen anything." Cookie glared at Lloyd.

"Look, she's just lashing out," reasoned Lloyd. "Neither of you should even be here. Just... Just take her and go on already, before someone starts wondering why she's even here." Clementine moved to Cookie, who kept staring as Lloyd as he walked away. Lloyd however appeared wounded, and leaned against the container for support, like he could barely remain standing without it.


	59. The Coming Storm

"Can't we make more salt?" Clementine asked Cookie. "I mean, hasn't salt been around a really long time?"

"Well yeah, but I don't know how you make it. I think you mine it or something," shrugged Cookie as he walked with Clementine. "And I think I remember in history class, salt use to be money or something in ancient times. That's how valuable it was."

"Wow," awed Clem. "Before the walkers, you could just get it everywhere, even for free at school or restaurants. But now that they're not making it anymore…"

"Yeah, it's like we're back in ancient times," noted Cookie. "But who knows, maybe the crew will bring back a salt miner or something. Tell us how it's done."

Despite her initial disinterest, and the awkward series of questions Cookie asked Clem after what she said about Lloyd, she actually enjoyed the rest of her lesson. Learning a lot about cooking with just an open fire and iron cook ware, how Cookie makes the soup from letting vegetables simmer in water, which he then seasons with ground up greens from Dr. Bostwick, and more about salt then she ever realized there was to know.

The only cloud hanging over the lesson, other than the many literal ones that looked like they were ready to rain, was that Sarah was missing. Clementine still felt terrible for yelling at her, and felt so ashamed about it, she never could find the nerve to tell Cookie that she was the reason Sarah ran off. Thinking about it now, Clem thought Cookie wouldn't have offered to walk her back to the pen personally if he knew what she did.

"You hear what Byron said about Savannah?" Looking ahead, Clementine could see Tom standing near the entrance of the pen, talking to Maude. "That last storm really shook shit up down there."

"We'll be fine," assured Maude in a dismissive tone. "We have procedures in place for herds."

"Yeah, but listening to him, dude was trippin'. It sounded bad, and if it storms tonight, that shit might be shuffling right up our way." Clementine felt hopeful upon hearing that. Looking up at evening sky, it looked ready to start pouring soon.

"Like I said, we have plans for such a thing. We'll be fine." Maude turned to Clementine and Cookie. "Cookie, why are you escorting her here?"

"Well, it was a short walk," reasoned Cookie. "I figured…"

"Anyone from the pen is suppose to be escorted to and from their duties by members of the crew only," lectured Maude. "Even if their duties involve the residents." Cookie just looked down at Clementine.

"She's just a kid, and I thought we could talk along the way," said Cookie.

"I'll have to inform Mr. Carver of this." Maude reached for her radio.

"Really Maude?" asked Tom in disbelief.

"Yes really. We just had a major security breach here in case you forgot," she retorted in a harsh tone. "We won't have another on my watch." Maude pressed the talk button on her radio. "Mr. Carver, sir?"

"What is it Maude?" asked Bill.

"Cookie escorted one of the pen people here without a member of the crew."

"Which one?" asked Bill, sounding suspicious.

"Clementine." Clem tensed up as she waited for Bill to reply. She found the silence unnerving. "Sir?"

"Uh, yeah, I heard you Maude," answered Bill in a dismissive tone. "Great job staying on top of things…"

"I'm just doing my duty, sir," answered Maude, clearly aware of Bill's sarcasm. "Cookie you can go, we'll take it from here." Cookie eyed the fence that made up the pen, then looked down at Clementine, seemingly bothered as he finally saw her living conditions up close. "Cookie, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," he said as he eyed the pen. "I hear you."

"Then leave already." Cookie briefly glared at Maude, then started walking away. "Is there some reason he seems to be so disrespectful this evening?" Clementine pondered Maude's question.

"Maybe he doesn't like you," suggested Clem.

"He'd hardly be the first," noted Tom.

"I'm not here to be liked," commented Maude. "You, arms out." Clementine sighed as Maude searched her. Unlike the pat downs she was use, Maude hands made their way all over Clem's body, including in her pockets, and briefly between her legs, much to Clementine's discomfort. She also had to open her mouth again so Maude could look in it with a flashlight, much like when she first arrived. After examining inside her hat, Maude handed it back and then went for the latch.

"Away from the door!" Clementine watched in surprise as Tom took a few steps back and aimed his gun at the entrance. Clementine shuffled in and heard the gate slam behind her. Looking around, she saw the beds were in disarray, mattresses half hanging off the springs, pillows and blankets scattered about, and near the middle of the room, Clementine noticed her backpack sprawled out on the ground, her drawings and note scattered across the pavement.

"So, just you and me again." Clementine looked over to see Matt sitting in the one bed that wasn't out of order. His face was covered in bruises and small bandages. Looking at him, Clementine was surprised to see how badly she actually injured the boy. "Admiring your work?"

"Hey!" Clementine called to Tom and Maude. "He's going to try and kill me!"

"No he's not," dismissed Maude. "Any disorder of any kind of my watch and the offender will lose meal privileges tomorrow."

"Chill," said Matt in an oddly smug tone. "I'm just behaving myself." Clementine started picking up her papers and her backpack.

"Did you do this?" she asked.

"They did." Matt gestured to Tom and Maude. "New security procedures for us rotten pen people." Clementine zipped up her backpack, then moved to one of the beds. "How was work?"

"What do you care?" asked Clementine as she cleaned up one of the beds.

"Just wondering how you liked it?" smirked Matt. "Sucks, doesn't it? And you only did a half day."

"How do you know?" retorted Clem.

"You'd be too tired to even talk to me right now if you had worked all day," asserted Matt. "Someone weak and tiny like you." Clem scowled, but refused to play into Matt's game again. "Who'd you get?"

"Richard," answered Clem.

"Wow, they gave you the dick on your first day?" giggled Matt. "I bet he worked you good." Clementine had to resist the urge to lunge at Matt. "I would have volunteered for work if I had known I'd get to see Dick ride your sorry little ass every step of the way. I bet you were crying the whole time." Clementine rolled over on her bad, refusing to even look at Matt.

"You did, didn't you? I bet you cried the whole time. Did you pee your panties too?"

"Hey!" called Maude as she knocked on the fencing. "Keep it down in there."

"I've been here all day," said Matt in a hushed voice. "And you know what I realized? I don't have to kill you. The work will kill you worse than I ever could." Clementine gripped her pillow more tightly, finding it harder to ignore Matt. "You know, there are some nice guards." Clementine realized Matt was probably just baiting her, but she found herself too curious to the answer to ignore him.

"Which ones?" she asked without turning around.

"There's one who is always nice to me. I can always just talk and not worried about getting yelled at with them."

"Who?"

"Felicity," snickered Matt. "You saw what happen to her." Clementine put her pillow over her head, trying to block out Matt's voice. "Then there was this other guy." The pillow didn't work. "He acted all tough, but anytime I played sick, he always ended up feeling real sorry for me. If we were alone, he'd usually do a lot of my work for me. Every time. Do you want to know what happened to him?"

"What?" asked Clem, figuring Matt wouldn't leave her alone until she asked.

"He's sleep in the bed next to yours at night." Clementine rolled over.

"Nick?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, guy is a total sucker," giggled Matt. "Too bad he's in here now."

"What's your point?" asked an annoyed Clementine.

"Point is, I only made it this far because some of the guards were saps. But we're just about out of those. All we got left is Lloyd and maybe Tom, and even if he's not an asshole, he'll still work you." Matt turned to the fence "Right Tom?"

"Keep quiet," ordered Tom without turning around.

"And, I'm bigger and stronger than you," reminded Matt. "So how far do you think someone as weak as you will last?"

"I'm not going to fight you again," insisted Clementine.

"You don't have to," smiled Matt. "Gene told me, tomorrow is our last class." Clementine felt her heart start to race as she thought about what would happen once school was over. "I can't wait." Matt rolled onto his mattresses, grinning ear to ear.

Clem tried to rest until the others came back, but couldn't. Instead, she straightened up the other beds to occupy her time. While fixing the last bed, Clementine noticed Sarah's jacket on the ground, still lying where she left it yesterday. Clementine picked it off the ground and examined it, then decided to put it on. The sleeves were far too long, but Clementine found it very warm, so she decided to leave it on for the night.

The others were brought back to the pen one by one, with Carlos being the last one to return. Edmund brought supper not long after that. After Maude shut off the light and left everyone in the dark, Clementine, Christa and Nick all removed a few small pieces of food from their mouths.

"What… what is this?" asked Carlos as Nick offered him a radish slice.

"It was Clementine's idea," explained Nick. "It's best not to think about where it came from though."

"If you do have to think about it, just remember it's better than not eating," suggested Christa as she offered the hungry man a few pieces of lettuce.

"Thank you, both of you," said Carlos as he took the morsels to eat. Clementine could see Matt sitting in the dark, watching them. She looked at the two radish slices she had saved, then moved over to him.

"You didn't get to eat either today," realized Clem. "So, why don't you take mine." Clem held out the slices for the boy.

"I don't want anything from any of you," stated Matt.

"Just take it," insisted Clem, annoyed at Matt.

"I said I don't need anything!" Matt knocked the slices out of Clem's hands. Clementine felt around in the dark for the lost food, but found nothing. She was about to stand up, when there was a flash of lightning. In the brief flash of light, Clem saw the radish slices. She scooped them up just as a crack of thunder sounded in the distance.

"That sounded like it came from south of here," noted a hopeful Carlos.

"Here." Clem offered the radishes to Carlos. "They touched the ground, but…"

"It's fine," said Carlos as he took the slices. "It's the least of my worries right now."

"You assholes do that again and I'll tell the guards," threatened Matt. "I'd tell them about this tomorrow, but they wouldn't believe me without proof." Matt lied down.

"We could give you food too," noted an aggravated Clementine.

"Like I said, I don't want anything from any of you." Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the pen, followed by another clap of thunder.

"They were little closer together this time," noted Carlos, sounding pleasantly surprised. "The storm is moving this way," he whispered as he lied down. Clementine found her way into Christa's bed, and cuddled up to the woman. Between Christa holding her, the blanket, and Sarah's jacket, Clementine actually felt warm for once. As she lied there, the sound of rain hitting the pavement filled the area.

"Gotta love this winter weather," quipped a glib Christa.

"Yeah, you do," said a sincere Clementine.

"You sound almost happy." Clem moved in close to Christa.

"The storm might bring a herd to this place, and then we can escape," whispered Clem.

"What?" whispered Christa. "If a herd of those things come here, we've got more to be worried about than this place."

"No we don't," assured Clementine. "All we have to is cover ourselves in that smelly stuff that comes out of walkers, then we'll smell like them, and they'll leave us alone. And Bill's people don't know about this, so they can't follow us, and they can't use guns either, or it'll bring the herd here."

"Wait, since when can you can get by walkers by smelling like them?" asked Christa.

"Lee figured it out," answered Clementine. "It was the only way I got out of Savannah."

"That's why you were covered in blood that day. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I… I guess I just didn't want to think about that day again," confessed Clementine. "Then we moved into the cabin, and it didn't seem to matter anymore."

"I understand. But, you're sure about this, right? None of the walkers tried to attack you?"

"One did, but it was after I broke a window in front of it, so you still have to be quiet. But that was it. I walked for hours, and past hundreds of them. I keep thinking it would stop working at some point, but it didn't. Then I found you and Omid."

"And now you want to do it again," Christa murmured.

"It'll work," insisted Clem.

"I believe you Clem. I'm just not looking forward to going back out there."

"It'll be better than staying here."

"Yeah, hopefully…" Christa took a breath. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"Just Carlos. But he wants me to tell Sarah to meet us outside the pen if a herd comes."

"Don't."

"What?"

"It's too big a risk to tell Sarah. She might let it slip what we're doing."

"I don't think she'd do that, again," answered an uncertain Clementine.

"But she might."

"But, we can't just leave her."

"She'll be okay. She's out of the pen now, they're feeding her, and she's lived here before."

"But…"

"Clem, I know you care about her. I care too. But you have to think about what's best for her."

"It's better for her to be here than with us?" asked a defiant Clementine.

"If being with us means going back out there, yeah, it might," answered a conflicted Christa. "You and I both know there's worse things out there than the people living here, and for someone like her... She's struggling as it is just living here. What would happen if we make her leave, and she ends up being exposed to even worse than what she's seen here?"

"She'd… I…" Clem found herself paralyzed as she thought back to all the horrible sights that she couldn't forget, no matter how hard she tried.

"I don't even want you to have to go back out there. Sarah may have even have told Bill about the plan because she didn't want to leave, and if she did, it wouldn't be right to force her to come with us."

"But, Carlos said..."

"He doesn't know for sure what Bill's plans are. Bill might just let Sarah live outside the pen to make Carlos cooperate, because he knows Carlos would do it as long as Sarah is safe."

"I… I don't know."

"Look, we don't even know if there will be a herd soon and Bill seems to have a way of finding these things out, so the less people who know, the better. And even if you don't tell Sarah, we still have the option to get her on the way out. So for now, it's better if you don't tell her what we're planning." Clementine sighed.

"Yeah," she conceded. "That makes sense."


	60. Parting Lessons

Clementine covered her mouth and coughed. Her throat had been feeling scratchy ever since she woke up this morning, and it was really starting to annoy her. Gene's lesson on someone who got lost in the Antarctic wasn't doing much to comfort her either. Looking around, it didn't do much for the others. Bridget was clearly bored, Matt looked like he was sleeping, and Sarah was lying her head on the desk. Seeing as Gene was busy writing something on the white board, Clem sensed an opportunity.

"Sarah?" whispered Clem. "Sarah." repeated Clem a little louder. Sarah didn't move, simply remaining still with her head on the desk. "Sarah, I'm sorry about yesterday. I..."

"Clementine," called an annoyed Gene. "Can you please not talk during my lesson?"

"I'm sorry." Looking at the rest of class, Gene realized Clementine was hardly the only one not paying attention.

"Okay, apparently none of you are all that invested today, so I'll just give you the short version." Gene took a deep breath. "Douglas Mawson charted an expedition to Antarctica. He an two others went out, one of them stepped over a hidden crevasse, plunged to his death, along with most of their sled dogs and supplies.

That left Douglas and his friend with almost nothing to cover over three hundred miles across the most inhospitable terrain on the planet to their expedition's base on the coast. His friend made about two hundred miles, then died, leaving Douglas to make the rest of the journey alone. At one point he fell into a crevasse himself, saved only by his sled being stuck on the snow. And…"

"And he lived," grumbled an annoyed Matt. "Big fuckin' deal. The other two guys didn't. Nobody remembers them."

"Their names were Xaiver Mertz and Belgrave Ninnis," retorted Gene. "They had crossed several crevasses that day, and Mertz was signaling Mawson about yet another one, right before Ninnis fell. The two men spent hours calling into the abyss, hoping against all hope Ninnis survived.

Mawson and Mertz had to survive by eating the sled dogs that collapsed from exhaustion, and feeding what was left to the surviving dogs so they could keep pulling the sled. Eventually it was just them, and Mertz was the one who couldn't go on. Mawson pulled Mertz along on the sled during the day, tried feeding him in the evening, only for Mertz to die the next morning.

After burying Mertz, Mawson had to go on alone. His body was covered in sores, his hair falling out, the soles of his feet had simply come off completely. He had to tape them back on, then put on every pair of socks he had left just so there was enough cushioning to make the pain slightly less agonous." Clementine watched as Sarah lifted her head up, her face making it clear how disturbing she found this story.

"When he fell into a crevasse, and found himself hanging over an abyss, Mawson forced himself to climb back to edge of the cliff. When he reached the lip, it broke off from the rest of the ice, and took Mawson with him. Once again he was hanging over an abyss just by the rope tied to his sled."

"But he got out anyways," mocked Matt. "Because he so's badass."

"Actually, by his own account, Mawson said he thought about just letting go of the rope," narrated Gene. "He only had a few scraps of food left, eighty miles left to go, and the Aurora, the ship that brought the expedition team to Antarctic, had been scheduled to leave by now. And because of how dangerous just sailing to the Antarctic is, the ship wouldn't return until next year. Between that and the agony he was in, letting go and ending everything seemed like the natural choice."

"Why didn't he?" asked Clementine.

"He said he recalled a verse from his favorite poem. 'Just have one more try, it's dead easy to die. It's the keeping-on-living that's hard."

"But how did he get back home when he had no food and the boat was gone?" asked a dispirited Sarah.

"About thirty miles out from the base, he spotted something covered in a black cloth. It was a message and food left by one of the search parties looking for him and the others. When he finally returned to camp, he saw the Aurora, sailing off far into the horizon. But he also saw people waiting for him. Six men had stayed behind, willing to brave another year in the Antarctic, just on the off chance that Mawson or one of the other men had survived."

"So, in the end he just got lucky?" scoffed Bridget.

"Real lucky," grumbled an irritated Matt. "That's the only reason this guy lived and his friends didn't."

"It was a reason, but not the only one," argued Gene. "The hard truth is life simply isn't fair. You can't always get what you want. Sometimes there isn't a solution. And your hard work might not always pay off."

"Especially in this place," scoffed Matt.

"But sometimes it does," asserted Gene, ignoring Matt's comment. "Never giving up doesn't guarantee you success, but it does guarantee you as many chances at success as possible, and, with a little luck maybe, one of them might be exactly what you wanted, but you'll never find it out if you don't keep trying." Gene took a breath and looked out at the class.

"I guess if you learned anything from your time with me, I'd like it to be that," he said in a sober tone. "I don't suppose there are any questions." The class remained silent, but Clementine slowly raised her hand. "Yes?"

"You said that part about living be hard was from a poem?" asked Clementine. "Which one?"

"It was from a Robert Service poem, ironically called The Quitter," smirked Gene. "Would you like to hear it?" Clem nodded. "When you're lost in the wild, and you're scared as a child, and Death looks you bang in the eye, and you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle, to cock your revolver and die. But…" The container doors swung open and Tom burst into the classroom.

"What's going on?" asked Gene.

"A herd is what's going on." Clementine's ears perked up upon hearing those words. "Byron and Harry just called back, a shit load of lurkers are moving out of Savannah and in our direction. Probably pass by us this evening. Bill said brief the kids on what's happening, then send them home earlier. Then come find us, we're going to need your help convincing Poison Ivy to leave her lair." Tom left in a rush, not even bothering to close the door.

"All right class, don't panic. This isn't the first herd we've had come through and it sounds like the crew spotted it with plenty of time to prepare. Might not even come near us, and even if it does, all we have to do is keep quiet. The walls will keep the lurkers out and as long as we're quiet they'll pass right by us.

Bridget, Sarah, just go to your rooms, and I'll take Matt and Clem back to the pen. All of you will be delivered lunch and an early dinner later, and you're to stay put until one of us tells you it's all clear. Probably sometime tomorrow morning. Just think of it as a day off."

"Works for me," commented Matt as he stood up.

"Something cool finally happens and I got to stay in my room," grumbled Bridget as she moved to the door. Clementine watched as Sarah shuffled to the entrance.

"Wait, Sarah." Clem's call halted the older girl.

"Come on Clem," urged Gene as he took her by the hand.

"I need to tell Sarah something first," insisted Clem as she resisted Gene's attempts to move her towards the door.

"Well, then tell her and let's get moving." Clementine flinched as she realized she couldn't really tell Sarah about the escape plan out loud in front of the others.

"I… I just want to talk to her for a little bit," explained Clem.

"Well you can do that some other time, now come on." Gene grabbed Clem's hand and started pulling her towards the door.

"No, please. Just let me talk to her for a minute, please." Gene just pulled Clem through the tunnel and back into the yard, despite Clem's protests.

"Gene?" Gene stopped and turned around to see Sarah approaching him. "Maybe I could just take Clementine to my room?"

"I'm sorry Sarah, but no," said Gene in apologetic tone. "Bill's very clear about pen people remaining in the pen, a hard situation would be no exception."

"Not even for a few minutes?"

"Sarah…"

"I know you can't let me see my dad, because of what he did," sniveled Sarah. "But can't I just spend a few minutes with my best friend? I'm really scared and… and I feel better when she's around." Clementine felt touched to hear Sarah still call her best friend, despite what she said yesterday.

"God, would you just grow up already?" suggested a disgusted Bridget. "You think Gene cares…"

"Bridget, just go." Bridget was clearly annoyed at Gene's order, but left without another word.

"Now if I let Clementine go with you, that means you're responsible for her. Understand?" Sarah nodded at Gene. "She's not to leave your sight until me or someone from the crew comes to take her to pen. Can you handle that?"

"Yes," assured Sarah in a meek voice.

"Okay, take her straight to your room." Gene released Clementine, who quickly moved to Sarah's side. "I'll tell them you're both running an errand for me and that they can find Clem with you when you're done. You got as much time as it takes until they come get her. Understand?" Sarah nodded. "All right go on." Clem felt Sarah's hand grasp hers, giving Clem a familiar sense of comfort. Together they started walking across the yard.

"Like you'd ever do something like that for me," Clem heard Matt say before fading from earshot. As the pair moved across the yard, Clem saw various people running to and from, and was fearful one of them would stop and ask where they were going. But none of them did, all far too preoccupied with other matters.

As they moved across the front of the warehouse, Clementine noticed the rows of cargo containers beside it, complete with metal chimneys attached to the tops of them. There must have been a dozen in each row, and passing between them Clementine noticed some of them had words spray painted on them. Mostly names, some she recognized, some she didn't, and some of them were crossed out. One that caught Clem's eyes was 'Winslow' written in big yellow letters on a blue container, and the large red cross painted over it.

"Give me a minute to open the windows." Sarah opened the door to her container and grabbed what looked like a aluminum pole leaning near the entrance. As Sarah pushed open the first cover, Clementine looked at the stacks upon stacks of books lined up against the side of the container. There had to be nearly a hundred of them, if not more.

"Did you read all of these?" asked Clementine, stunned at the sheer volume of literature neatly piled up in front of her.

"Yeah," answered Sarah in a quiet voice. "There wasn't much else for me to do." Sarah opened the next cover, shining light on the fireplace and a pair of plastic chairs in front of it. Examining it, Clem couldn't help but admire its craftsmanship. The wood was kept in a neatly made metallic container, and above it was a long tube that ran right into the ceiling, funneling the smoke out.

Opening the last cover revealed a bed tucked into one corner of the container and a curtain covering the other corner. The bed was clearly nicer than the one in the pens. The mattress looked much more comfortable, and the pillows and blanket looked more accommodating as well. However it was only slightly wider than the beds in the pen.

"What's this?" Clementine peeked behind the curtain. There was a small stool and a pot with a couple of rags and a brush in it. There was also a box shaped plastic device with a toilet seat attached to it.

"It's just the bathroom," answered Sarah.

"Does that actually work?" asked Clem, pointing to the tiny toilet.

"Yeah, mostly," shrugged a disinterested Sarah. "You put water in it, and you can flush by pushing this thing." Sarah pressed what looked like a button, which caused a small squirt of water to spray into the bowl. "It goes into a tank Edmund collects and empties. I think people used to use them for camping, or something." Clementine covered her mouth and coughed.

"Are you okay?" asked a concerned Sarah.

"Yeah, I think I just have a cold or something," explained Clem.

"I'll go start a fire, so you can keep warm." Sarah moved back to the fire place. Clementine watched as Sarah pulled a metal tray out from under it. She dumped some ashes into a bin next to it, then took some papers from the box next it. She lined the tray with papers, then took a couple of small slabs chained together, and started scrapping one against the other.

"What's that?" asked Clementine.

"Um, some kind of fire starter," answered Sarah without looking up. "It's another thing people used when camping I think."

"Christa had this stick with a string tied around it for starting fires," said Clem. "You had to spin it really fast, and I never could do it fast enough to start a fire."

"Well, this is easy," assured a dreary Sarah as one of the pages caught fire. "Even I can do it." Sarah pushed the tray under the fireplace. The fire from the tray ignited more paper crushed under the logs. "I guess I've always just had it easy." Sarah pocketed the fire starter and sat down in a chair next to Clem.

"So, what did you want to tell me?" asked a drab Sarah, who couldn't seem to even muster the strength to look at Clementine.

"Well, first, I'm really sorry about what I said yesterday," professed a penitent Clem. "I…"

"Why?" asked a disinterested Sarah.

"Because it was a horrible thing to say," explained a guilt-stricken Clementine.

"It was true…"

"What?" asked Clem, shocked at what Sarah said. "No it wasn't."

"Yes it was," insisted Sarah in a quiet voice. "The people who live here. They were out killing other people, or working them until they starved, and doing all kinds of terrible things, and I just sat in here, where I never had to do anything. Where I always had food, and I was always safe, all because I'm selfish."

"You're not selfish," insisted Clementine, surprised Sarah even thought that way about herself.

"Yes I am," said Sarah in a matter of fact voice. "I had everything, when most people had nothing, and I still wanted more. I hated staying here. I wanted to go back to my own house. Sleep in my own bed. Eat my favorite foods again. And just do all the other things I used to like.

And because I'm so selfish, my dad had to do terrible things, just for me. Then he was going to do something else terrible, just to keep my safe. And…" Sarah tensed up. "And now everything is worse, because of me, because I was hungry, and Mr. Carver said he'd feed me if I told him anything he should know. I'm… I'm a terrible person." Clem leaned in close to Sarah, placing her hand on the weeping girl's shoulder.

"You didn't ask your dad to do those things, you didn't even know about them. You didn't hurt anyone, or take things from people, or do anything wrong other than make a mistake, and what Bill did was because he's the terrible person, not you," insisted Clem. "This isn't your fault Sarah."

"I want it to be my fault," admitted Sarah.

"What?" said a confused Clem. "Why?"

"Because, if it's not my fault, it's my dad's fault for lying to me, and everyone else who ever lied to me." Sarah turned towards Clem, a bitter look of anger on her face. Clem felt Sarah's glare intimidating, she'd never actually seen her mad before. "You've lied to me too, haven't you?"


	61. Hard Truths

"Why?" asked a furious Sarah. "Why have you been lying to me?" Clementine turned away from Sarah.

"Your dad told me and Christa to," answered Clem in a quiet voice.

"He wouldn't…" Sarah stopped mid-sentence, then grew angrier. "Of course he did," she said through gritted teeth. "It's not bad enough he lies to me, he tells everyone else to lie to me too." Clem turned back towards Sarah. "Well my dad isn't here right now, so I want you to tell me the truth."

"About what?"

"Everything. Everything he made you lie to me about. Was it true what Mr. Carver said? Did my dad, just leave you to die?" Clem sighed.

"It's true," admitted Clem in a quiet voice.

"Oh god," gasped Sarah. "Why?"

"He thought my dog bite was a walker bite, so he had Nick lock me in the shed, and said I had to stay there all night."

"That's… that's why you wanted me to help you, because you knew my dad wouldn't," realized Sarah. "What about the man Nick and Pete buried? You knew him didn't you? Was he your dad?"

"His name was Omid." Sarah went wide-eyed with horror. "Nick shot him because he was looking at your dad with a rifle scope, and thought he was going to shoot."

"That's why your mom was so mad all the time. That's why she was pointing a gun at him at the lodge. And my dad was pointing one right back, he… he was really going to shoot her," realized a disgusted Sarah.

"He probably did let people die. I used to hear things when I lived here. I'd hear Mr. Carver talk about tragic losses in the morning, and when I'd asked my dad if there was anything he could have done, he'd always tell me he did everything he could. That was probably a lie too.

I'd hear other things too. I'd hear gunshots, and people yelling and screaming, and anytime I'd ask him about it, he always told me it was nothing to worry about. That it was just lurkers. I heard your mom that first night in the cabin, yelling and banging on the wall, and when I asked him about that, he said she was just having a hard time. When I asked him what's wrong with her, he said he didn't know. That was lie. So was him saying you and your mom were letting us stay at that cabin too, they were forcing you, weren't they?" Clem nodded weakly.

"He's… he's probably been lying to me my whole life," realized a furious Sarah. "He'd lied to me about stupid stuff like Santa or the Tooth Fairy, and he lied about all these terrible things he did. He probably lied about my mom too. Maybe she never died, maybe she left him, or maybe he killed her!"

"Sarah," called Clem, alarmed by Sarah's outrage.

"Maybe he lied about the sun blowing up too. Maybe it'll just explode tomorrow and kill us all!"

"Sarah!" called Clem, frightened by Sarah's rambling. "Calm down."

"My… my dad's a bad person," realized a devastated Sarah.

"Sarah, your dad…"

"You can't say that you don't think he's a bad person, after what he did to you and your mom. I still remember that night. You were cold and wet and muddy and bleeding and scared, and you knew my dad didn't even care."

"He… He cares about you Sarah," said Clem in an uneasy voice. "He was just trying to protect you."

"That doesn't make it right. You can't just do terrible things and say it's okay because you want to protect someone." Clementine sighed, and thought to herself, trying to think how to reassure the older girl.

"Sarah, I used to know a man who killed someone, before things changed."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. I think he was angry, but he went to jail because he did it, so he shouldn't have. But he also took care of me when my parents weren't there. He protected me, and fed me, and was nice to me, and taught me how to take care of myself better, all because he cared about me.

And sometimes he still did things I didn't think were right. He took all this food and stuff from someone's car once, even though it may have belonged to someone else. I… I also saw him stab a man with a pitchfork right in front of me."

"Why would he do that?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"That man he stabbed was really really bad," recounted a sickened Clementine. "Worse than anyone here."

"So, he was protecting you?"

"No, he'd already stopped the man, but he did it anyways. And later he told me he shouldn't have," clarified Clementine. "But he also did a lot of good things, and not just for me, for lot's of people."

"I don't think my dad has done anything good for anyone other than me." Clementine looked to the door, making sure no one was waiting outside.

"I took the guns," Clem whispered to Sarah.

"What?"

"I'm the one who took the guns," repeated Clem in a hushed voice. "Your dad told me to, but I agreed with him, and wanted to do it. He made up all that stuff about someone else helping him, and even when Bill said he'd shoot him, he still didn't tell him I did it."

"He… he did?" asked Sarah in disbelief.

"Yeah. I won't say your dad hasn't done bad things, but I think he wants to do good things too, and he has done some good, and not just for you. He even said he'd help Christa with the baby if we got out. I think even if someone does something bad, that doesn't mean they have to be a bad person."

"Like, when you beat up Matt?" asked Sarah.

"He wouldn't leave me alone, I didn't want to," insisted Clementine. "But I guess you don't believe me."

"I believe you," answered a sincere Sarah. "It was just, scary, seeing you hurting him like that."

"I told him I'm was sorry about what I said. I told him I didn't want to fight. He grabbed my arms and wouldn't let me go," recounted an aggravated Clementine. "Even after I kicked him a few times, and he was on the ground, he kept saying he'd kill me, and I thought, if he gets back up, he would, so, I just had to make sure he didn't get back up…" Sarah looked at a fuming Clementine, noting the anger and fear in her eyes.

"I… I think I understand why my dad never wanted me to leave my room. You've only been here a week, and…"

"And what?" asked Clementine in a defensive tone.

"It's like, you're changing," answered Sarah in a concerned voice. "You seem to be angry all the time now and you say really horrible things to people. It's like you're turning into someone different from who you were when we got here."

"I… I just…" Clementine found herself at a loss for words as she thought about her actions over the last few days.

"And the worst part is, it feels like that's what they want. That they want us to be someone different, someone bad."

"Or they want us to die if we can't change," added a dreary Clementine.

"Do… do you think that's what happened to my dad?" asked Sarah. "He became someone bad, so I wouldn't die?"

"He told me, he'd be cruel if it meant you could be kind," repeated Clem.

"When did he say that?" asked a surprised Sarah.

"Yesterday, when he was taking out my stitches," answered Clem. "He also wanted me to tell you he loved you, and he's sorry for everything he did." Sarah's head sank in her hands, a crushed look on her face.

"I'm so stupid," she whispered.

"You're not stupid Sarah," insisted Clem. "You just made a mistake. We all make mistakes."

"Did you ever make a mistake that ruined everything for everyone you cared about?" Clem turned away, suddenly feeling very insecure herself.

"Yes…" Sarah looked over at Clem, slumped over in her chair with a crestfallen look on her face.

"You did?" asked Sarah, surprised by Clem's answer.

"I did. I trusted someone I shouldn't have. He told me he had…" Clem bit her lip, struggling to find the words. "He told me he had something I really needed. And even though it was impossible, and Christa and someone else I trusted told me not to believe him, I did anyways, just because I wanted it to be true."

"What did he have?"

"Just, something I needed," insisted a tearful Clem, unable to bring herself to admit the truth to Sarah. "And he didn't have it. It was lies, and I should have known, and… almost everyone I knew died trying to save me."

"Oh Clem," spoke a shocked Sarah. "I… I'm so sorry."

"There's bad people who lie to you out there too Sarah," assured a wounded Clementine.

"Yeah, everything's dangerous now. Just like you said." Clementine turned back to Sarah, trying to figure out what the older girl was thinking.

"Sarah?"

"I'm so confused," confessed an exhausted Sarah. "Everything… it… it's like nothing makes sense anymore."

"I know." Sarah appeared to be crushed under the weight of the world to Clem, something she often felt was happening to her. "Sarah? Do you want to leave this place?"

"Does it matter now?"

"If you could leave, would you?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You don't?"

"Would my dad be there?"

"Yeah."

"Well, now that I know all these things, maybe he won't lie to me anymore. And if we go somewhere else, maybe he won't have to do bad things anymore," reasoned Sarah. "But, what about you? Would you be there?"

"Yeah. In fact, if everyone was there, would you want to leave?"

"Definitely."

"You're sure? It can be really bad out there too. There's even worse places than this one."

"Worse?" asked a nervous Sarah. "How?"

"Well, this place treats kids wrong, but there was a place in Savannah that wouldn't let kids stay at all."

"What? Why not?" asked a frightened Sarah.

"Because they didn't think kids were helpful."

"That's… that's horrible."

"And there might be even worse than that," informed Clementine. "Adam told me that if I had seen the worst, I wouldn't want to leave."

"Oh god. It's…"

"It's horrible," finished Clem. "It's probably why so many people here do bad things, because they don't want to live out there." Sarah suddenly became very quiet.

"Do... do you still want to leave?" asked Clem.

"Yeah... I do," answered Sarah.

"You're sure?"

"You said it's not all bad," reminded Sarah. "There's good people out there too. Right?"

"We might not find any though," informed Clementine in a sober voice.

"But we might," suggested a hopeful Sarah. "Like how we found Walter and Matthew."

"Yeah, they were great," Clementine said to herself.

"And, I found you." Clementine saw Sarah smiling at her.

"And, I found you," repeated Clem to Sarah, returning the smile, only for Sarah to frown and turn away.

"But now they won't even let us be together most of the time," sighed Sarah. "And they're never going to let us leave either." Clem looked towards the door, then once more leaned in close to Sarah.

"Tonight, after Bill locks down the warehouse, wait for us by the pen."

"What, why?"

"We're leaving. They can't use their guns because of the herd. So we can just walk right out."

"But, if there's a herd of lurkers, we can't leave either."

"I know a way to stop walkers from trying to bite you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, someone smart I knew figured it out, they won't be able to follow us, and they can't shoot us."

"So, nobody will get hurt," realized a relived Sarah.

"Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay," nodded Sarah. "Wait, what about…"

"Nobody Sarah," insisted Clementine. "You can't tell anyone."

"I won't tell Mr. Carver, but what about…"

"No. It's too risky to tell anyone else," asserted Clementine. "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone." Sarah sighed.

"Okay, I promise," conceded Sarah.

"Just remember, sneak out after the warehouse is locked down and wait by the pen."

"I will." Looking at Sarah, Clementine noticed the pink shred of fabric still tied around her head. Clementine stood up and moved to untie it.

"You can probably take this off now." Clementine carefully removed the crude bandage. There was large bruise on Sarah's forehead and a scab. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but it did look much better than before. "I don't think you'll need it anymore."

"I kinda liked it actually," commented Sarah as she looked at the piece of cloth. "It was something you gave me, well, kinda." Clementine smiled.

"I'll get you something better when we get out," assured Clem in a sweet voice.

"I'd like that." Clementine moved her arms apart and leaned in to hug Sarah, when she heard the door fling open.

"There you are!" barked Consuelo as she stormed into the room. "Your retarded little ass is suppose to be in the pen!"

"Gene said…" Consuelo slapped Clementine hard across the face, knocking her to the ground. Clementine immediately covered her head with her hands, trying to stifle the urge to cry from the horrible throbbing pain in her face.

"Stop it!" yelled Sarah as she stepped between Clem and Consuelo. "Gene said it was okay for her to stay here until someone got her."

"I don't give a fuck what that curly haired pole smoking kike had to say! And I sure as shit don't give a fuck what a four eyed cum guzzling spick like you has to say!" Consuelo shoved Sarah back into a chair and pulled Clementine to her feet by the collar. "Come on shit stain, this is the last you're ever going to see of this place." Consuelo pulled Clem out of Sarah's room and back outside. She shoved the small girl forward, forcing her to march.

"You think you'd know better by now then to talk back to me, you mouthy mulatto mongoloid." Clem just bit her lip and held her tongue. "The hell were you doing in there? Finger fucking your filthy wetback dyke girlfriend? Does she give good head?" Clem refused to say anything. "Oh, what's this? The silent treatment? That suppose to teach me a lesson you stuck up little spook?"

Clem didn't respond, but Consuelo did. She grabbed the girl by her collar and flung her to ground. Clem looked up at the vindictive woman, and saw she was holding a gun in her hand. The trembling nine year old watched as Consuelo slowly raised her pistol.


	62. Just Words

"Don't," begged a frightened Clementine as she watched Consuelo aim the gun at her. "There's… There's a herd coming and…"

"I'm willing to bet they're still a ways off." Consuelo tossed the gun at Clementine's feet. "How bout you?" Clem looked at the pistol right in front of her. "Go head, pick up the gun." Clem looked up at Consuelo, unable to ignore the malevolent smile forming on the woman's face. "Come on, I know you want to." Clem found herself paralyzed by fear, unable to even move.

"You know what, I'll make it easy on you." Consuelo turned her back to Clem. "Go right ahead. Pick it up and pull the trigger. It'll be everything you ever wanted." Clementine felt the anger boiling inside her, urging her to grab the gun. She thought back to shooting Consuelo's thumb off, and what a horrifying sight it was then.

But thinking about it now, Clem found herself enjoying the image of Consuelo bleeding all over herself. Of making this horrible person suffer. It dawned on Clem she had the chance to kill Consuelo then, while she was still reeling from the injury. And staring at the gun lying on the pavement, Clem sensed an opportunity to finally correct that mistake.

Clem leaned forward, but then an image of Sarah flashed into her mind. She couldn't push out the thought of how frightened Sarah was to see her beat Matt. And thinking of Matt, Clem remembered the bitter punishment she received, and how her original outburst spurred his vendetta against her. Then she thought of Christa, and Nick, and Carlos, and how they'd be counting on her to open the gate to get out, and Clem found her hand moving back to her side.

Consuelo turned around, seemingly disappointed Clem hadn't made a move for the gun. She bent down and picked up the pistol, but she didn't put it away.

"You really are pathetic, you know that? Even Felicity had the balls to make a move, not that it did her any good." Clementine watched nervously as Consuelo traced the barrel of the gun down Clementine's arm. "You ever hear the expression, an eye for an eye?" Clementine felt her heart race and Consuelo's gun stopped over her thumb.

"Personally, I've always thought that was stupid. If someone took out my eye, I'd want a helluva lot more than their eye." Clementine's heart started to beat faster as Consuelo moved the gun. She briefly pointed the gun at Clem's head, then moved down her chest, past her belly, and stopped the gun right between Clementine's legs. Clem looked up at the woman in terror, who just smiled in return before cocking her gun.

"No! Don't!" Consuelo pulled the trigger and Clementine let out a panicked yelp. She waited for a gunshot, but there was nothing. Looking up she saw Consuelo aiming the gun at her face now. She pulled the trigger, causing Clem to flinch. But again, there was no shot. Consuelo pulled the trigger several more times, producing several loud clicks, which Clem found herself instinctively flinching at.

"You know, and I truly and sincerely mean this from the bottom of my heart, I hope you stay alive for a long time," professed Consuelo in an earnest voice as she stood up. "Because, I am going to have so much fun with you." Clem started coughing, find herself unable to stop. "It'd be such a shame if you left. Not because you'd go free of course, but because you'd die so quickly out there and miss out on all the wonderful suffering you could get in here." Clementine scowled at the horrible woman as she hovered over her, a disgusting grin spreading across her face.

"Oh no, the angry eyes, now I'm in trouble," quipped Consuelo as she holstered her gun. "You know what you are? You're nothing. Less than nothing really. A fucking waste of space if there ever was one. And despite what Bill tells you, nobody actually cares about you, no one. Not your supposed best friend, definitely not Bill, and not even that fat cum dumpster pretending to be your mom." Clem's eyes widened in shock.

"Oh yeah, Bill knows, he could tell from the first time he saw you two. Stuck up alpha cunt like her? There'd be nothing short of a shit storm if someone touched her precious flesh and blood. Just like how Carlos acts when anyone harms a hair on his brain dead chicken shit daughter's head. But for you, all she put out was a little huffing and puffing, and everything was fine, because she doesn't really care about you." Clem felt her blood boiling. She wanted nothing more than to have that gun back, but with enough bullets to kill Consuelo a dozen times over.

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm just saying she doesn't care about you to piss you off. And I am. But you know what? It's true. You're not her real daughter, and she'll have a real kid of her own soon, and then she won't need you. And when you die, she won't miss you, not really. I'm sure she'll be sad for a day, maybe two, but after that, she's going to be happier than she'll ever have been in her life.

She'll have her little crying, shitting bundle of joy. Maybe she'll even name it after you, thinking that some piece of you can live on. But really it's just her replacing you. She won't think about you. Before long she won't even remember you. Neither will anyone else. Even bleeding heart pussies like Gene and Gertrude and Cookie and your pathetic little girlfriend will forget all about you rotting on the side of the road when they see Shaffer's shining symbol of hope.

We're keeping that baby around. And we'll keep its mom happy too. So much happier than you ever made her. We'll make her love this place and why not? We're such good people. Giving a home to a loving mother and her darling little baby. Probably the last god damn baby left in the world. And those fucking pitiful saps will work themselves to death over it. They'll throw away their lives scrapping and scouring ever last thing Bill and I could ever want from what's left of this world.

And once they've finished building our own personal paradise and their dead and gone, we'll have everything we'd ever need, for the rest of our lives. Everything the world has left to offer just for me and him to enjoy all day, every day, and all thanks to a bunch of well meaning good people who gave their lives for us, because that's what good people do, they give up everything for someone else. It's why Bill loves them so much."

Clem was terrified as Consuelo stood over her, like a predator hovering over its wounded prey, toying with it before finally making the kill. Even after everything that had happened to Clem, she couldn't remember being more scared then she was right now.

"And you know where you stand in all of this? Nowhere. Because like I said, you're less than nothing. A stupid, weak, useless, sack of shit, that's only still alive because of the people willing to drag your pathetic ass this far out of pity. But they don't care about you, because no one cares about you. No one will miss you. No one will remember you. And absolutely no one in this world loves you."

Clementine felt her whole body trembling. She felt sick, sicker than she ever remembered being. It was if she was trapped at the bottom of an ocean. Alone, forgotten, crushed beneath the very world itself where she'd never be discovered, and no one could ever hear her cries of pain.

"What's this? The little baby going to cry?" Clem turned away from Consuelo, desperate to hide the overwhelming pain spilling over in her eyes. "No, no, no," whispered Consuelo as she circled around Clem. "Let me see them. Show me those big wonderful tears rolling down your filthy little face." Clem covered her face, trying harder in her life to not cry as she felt her very heart being smashed to pieces.

"I said let me see them!" Consuelo ripped Clem's hands away from her face and grabbed the poor girl's head with both hands, yanking her forward like a rag doll so that their faces were practically touching.

"Cry for me little girl!" Consuelo's horrid breath made Clem feel even sicker. "Don't you get it? We can do whatever we want to you, and nobody would even care!" Clem felt her eyes welling up, her nose sniveling and her entire body shaking in Consuelo's grip. Desperately she fought her every instinct to cry, not out of pride, but out of fear of how much more Consuelo would hurt her after she saw how much pain she had already inflicted.

"Consuelo, pick up." Clem watched as Consuelo's vicious smile faded away, replaced with a look of overwhelming irritation. "Consuelo, pick up!" Clem collapsed onto the ground as Consuelo grabbed her radio.

"What!" she barked.

"Where's Clementine? You said you were bringing her back to the pen like ten minutes ago," said Hector.

"She'll be there in a minute," hissed Consuelo.

"No, she'll be there right now!" dictated Hector. "We need to lock this place down and the last fucking thing we need right now is some kid on the loose. If she's not back in thirty seconds, I'm sending Tom to personally throw her and your fucking ass in the pen!"

"I'll be right there you french fried felching faggot!" Consuelo clipped her radio back to her belt and forced Clementine to her feet. "Don't think you're off the hook," whispered Consuelo as she forcefully dragged the girl back by the arm. "I've got all the time in the world for you. I'll dedicate myself to making your short little useless life miserable in every way I can. And I won't even so much as have to lay a finger on you to do it." Consuelo opened the gate to the pen.

"Away from the door!" She hurled Clementine past the entrance and slammed the gate shut.

"Clem, are you okay?" Christa looked on in horror as Clem just lay there, wide eyed in terror and trembling uncontrollably. "Clem, talk to me. Say something." Christa looked through the fence at Consuelo. "What the fuck did you do to her!"

"Nothing," shrugged Consuelo. "We were just talking."

"The fuck are you doing?" asked an annoyed Tom. "I didn't even search her."

"Trust me, she's got nothing." Consuelo casually strolled away without another word. Christa noticed the mark on Clem's face.

"She hit you again, didn't she?"

"Yuh…yeah," mumbled a sniveling Clem.

"But that wasn't all she did, was it?" asked a anxious Christa.

"No," answered a trembling Clem.

"What?" Clem couldn't find it in herself to answer. "You can tell me. It's okay…"

"She just said some really horrible things," insisted an increasingly emotional Clem.

"What things? What did she…"

"Just, terrible things, okay," cried Clementine. "Please, I don't want to talk about it." Christa wrapped her arms around Clementine hoisting the girl off the ground and carrying her to the nearest bed. She gently laid Clem onto the bed.

"What happened to her?" asked Nick.

"Consuelo said 'something' to her," answered a sickened Christa.

"Just wait until you work under her," commented a pleased Matt.

"Shut up!" barked Christa. "Clem, if you need anything…"

"Sarah's jacket," answered a shivering Clem. "It's under the bed." Christa retrieved the jacket and Clem immediately took it. She put the oversized coat on and zipped it up. It was comforting, but she found herself wishing Sarah herself was here right now.

"You might as well rest," suggested Carlos. "They won't use us for the rest of the day, so there's nothing for us to do."

"Clementine?" asked Christa. "You want me to rest in your bed?" Clem nodded, and Christa lied down next to the small girl. Clem inched closer and wrapped her arms around the woman. "Things will be better soon, Clem," assured a tearful Christa as she ran her fingers through the girl's hair. "Okay? It'll be better soon. I promise."

"You can't promise that," whimpered Clem.

"Yes I can," stated a certain Christa. "This time, I can promise you, things will be better soon."


	63. The Die is Cast

"Let's go." Clementine blinked her eyes a couple of times and looked up to see Carlos standing over her. Clem sat up, and found a terrible itching in her throat. She covered her face and started coughing. She found herself wishing they hadn't gotten dinner early, since it meant she wouldn't get any more water until morning. "It's time."

"You sure?" asked Christa as she stood up.

"Positive," answered Carlos in a hushed voice. "Tom left about an hour ago when they called for him to return his gun. They'll have completed the lock down by now. And you can hear the herd just outside." Listening closely, Clem heard a distant rustling, it sounded like hundreds of pieces of wet meat sliding across asphalt.

"God, that sounds like a lot of them," commented a nervous Nick.

"Listening in on Tom's radio before he left. It sounds like they're actually moving on the highway just down the road," explained Carlos.

"You said if you smell like them, they won't attack?" asked Nick in disbelief.

"It makes sense," said Carlos. "We know they can smell fresh blood and living things. Logic would suggest they can smell each other as well, and would know not to attack."

"But you got to be quiet," said Clem. "They can still hear you if you're not."

"We get out, we find a straggler, kill it, use it to disguise our scent, then we all head north until we get to St. Christopher's," surmised Carlos.

"Let's just get this over with," suggested Christa. "I just want to get out of this cell already."

"You and me both." Everyone turned to Matt, who was sitting on the bed furthest from the group, his arms crossed. "If you people are leaving I'm coming with you."

"Yeah right," scoffed Nick. "We should just tie him to the bed and gag him." Matt jumped off the bed and edge towards the loading door that led into the warehouse.

"Take me with you, or I'll pound on that door while screaming at the top of my lungs," threatened Matt.

"Fine, you can leave with us," conceded Carlos. "But once we're outside, you're on your own."

"Fine by me, I'm as sick of you assholes as I am this fucking place," retorted Matt. "So, how do we get out? Because Mick and I tried opening the gate from this side a bunch of times. It ain't happening."

"We open it from the other side," answered Carlos as the group approached the bathroom.

"Say what?" Matt watched as Nick and Carlos pulled on the fencing, widening the gap enough to allow Christa to help Clementine climb through the opening. "Are you kidding me? Why didn't I ever think of that?" Clementine tumbled down onto the pavement. She stood up and looked around.

It was overcast again, and looked to be about early evening. It was also eerily quiet. Clementine looked around to make sure there was no one left in the area. She didn't see anybody at first, but looking at the side of the building Clem thought she spotted someone ducking around the corner. Approaching the edge closer, Clem turned her hat around backwards so the brim wouldn't poke out past her face, then peeked around the corner. Clem found a familiar pair of brown eyes staring directly at her.

"Sarah," whispered a relived Clementine.

"Clementine," she whispered back. Sarah came out from around the corner and exchanged smiles with Clem.

"I changed my radio's channel to the one the crew uses. When I heard them say they were locking the warehouse, I came out here to wait for you," explained Sarah. "But I made sure to turn off the radio first, so it wouldn't make any noise."

"That was really smart," complimented Clem.

"You found my jacket." Clem looked down and forget she was still wearing it. "I thought it was gone." Clem unzipped it and handed it to Sarah.

"It's too big for me," said Clem. "But it helped keep me warm."

"That reminds me, I've got something for you." Sarah put her jacket on, then pulled something from her waistband. Clem looked on in disbelief as Sarah offered a familiar gun with dried blood on the bottom of the magazine. Clementine took the gun and removed the magazine. It was fully loaded.

"How did you get this?" asked Clem as she put the magazine back in.

"I'll explain later," insisted Sarah.

"But…"

"Later, I promise." Clem noticed her radio still attached to Sarah's waistband.

"This might sound weird, but can I have that radio?" asked Clem.

"Sure." Sarah handed it over. "I thought it might be yours. The stickers remind me of your backpack." Clementine clipped the radio to her waistband and tucked the gun into her pants. She then looked at Sarah and smiled.

"Is there anything else?" Clementine answered Sarah's question by wrapping her arms around the older girl and hugging her as tightly as she could. Clem found holding Sarah incredibly comforting, a feeling only surpassed by Sarah's arms grasping Clem and tenderly squeezing her. Clem almost didn't want to let go of Sarah, but the urgency of the situation finally compelled her to break off the hug.

"Come on." Clementine led Sarah to the front of the pen. The pair undid the latches and Matt immediately burst out the door.

"Bout fucking time," he grumbled as he walked past the girls.

"Sarah," called Carlos in a hushed voice.

"Daddy." The pair embraced each other.

"I'm so sorry dad," apologized Sarah.

"No, no, I'm the one who's sorry sweetheart," assured Carlos. "We'll have a talk later once we're somewhere safer, but right now we need to keep quiet."

"Yeah, they might still have some people out," commented Nick as he moved past the door. "But they won't have guns, so we can take them if we have to." Nick turned to Clem. "Here." Nick handed Clem's backpack to her, which she quickly put on. Carlos turned to the lamp attached to the pen's fence and unhooked it.

"What's that? Your severance pay?" scoffed Matt.

"It'll be dark in a few hours. We can use this," answered Carlos.

"Once we're out of the gate, hang a left until you reach the highway, then hang a right," instructed Nick. "Once we get ahead of the herd we can start running. Ten miles on the road and it'll bring us right to St. Christopher's." Christa emerged from the pen, a forlorn look on her face.

"All right, let's go." Carlos moved towards the side of the building with Sarah, Nick and Matt behind him.

"I told you not to tell Sarah," reminded Christa in grim tone.

"It's okay, she didn't tell anyone." Christa sighed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, let's go already." Clementine moved with Christa after the others, quietly following alongside the side of the warehouse. They stopped briefly near the end while Nick and Carlos surveyed for guards, then signaled to keep moving. They moved past the smaller office building and a couple of trucks facing the main gate.

Clem felt her heart race as Nick and Carlos started carefully sliding the metal girders that barricaded the gate out of place, taking great care to do it as quietly as they could. She keep expecting something to happen, but they moved the last of the girders out of the way without incident. Clementine felt her heart skip a beat as Nick and Carlos pulled the gate open just enough to slip inside.

They went in, along with Sarah and Matt trailing right behind them. Nick, Carlos and Matt sped towards the next gate, while Sarah stopped and knelt down to examine something on the ground. Clem tried to sped after them, but felt a strong pair of hands holding her shoulders. Looking up Clem saw an upset Christa holding her in place.

"What are you doing?" asked Clem. "We have to…"

"You don't want to go in there." Before Clem could ask Christa about her cryptic comment, the headlights on one of the trucks switched on, and a squad of four people descended on the main gate.

"Drop whatever you're holding and put your hands in the air!" ordered Maude.

"That's right!" added a cocky Bridget. "You're going nowhere!" Clementine watched in despair as Maude and Bridget aimed crossbows at the others while Tom and Consuelo pulled the gates wide open.

"Stay where you are!" Maude and Bridget moved into the loading area, covering Matt and Nick. Tom removed a bow from his back while Consuelo unsheathed a machete and approached Carlos and Sarah, who kept their hands in the air.

"And the Lord said, let there be light." Clementine watched as Bill stepped out of the cab of the truck, a smug grin on his face. "Then the Lord God saw the light, and said it was good." Bill turned to Christa. "As he separated the light from the darkness."

"How could you?" whispered a shocked Clementine.

"You traitor!" barked Carlos.

"I'm sorry," choked an ashamed Christa. "I…"

"You, got nothing to apologize for," assured Bill as he moved towards the others. "And you've got a helluva lot of nerve lecturing people on treachery Carlos, after everything you've pulled." Bill stopped suddenly when he noticed Sarah standing beside Carlos. He glared at the cowering girl, an unrestrained outrage burning his eyes.

"Then again, maybe it can't be helped," commented Bill through clenched teeth as he approached Sarah. "Maybe treachery just runs in your blood." Sarah yelped as Bill grabbed her arm and yanked her away from her father.

"No!" Tom grabbed one of Carlos's arms while Consuelo grabbed the other before positioning her machete under Carlos's chin.

"Settle down handsome," urged Consuelo in a playful voice. "Let Bill work his magic." Bill let go of Sarah, who just stood before the man, shaking in her boots.

"Well now," he said, his voice dripping with disgust. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I… Um… I…" stammered a petrified Sarah. "I… I just didn't want… you to hurt my dad again," she babbled. "So… I thought… If we leave…" Bill's hands found their way right to Sarah's throat. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I…" Sarah started choking for air as Bill strangled the life out her while Carlos screamed and thrashed against his captors.

Clementine reached for her gun, nearly fumbling it as she had to reach under her backpack to retrieve it. Finally having the gun in hand, she clicked the safety off, aimed for Bill, and felt a strong hand rip the gun from her grip.

"Christa no!" yelled Clem as Christa pulled the gun out of reach. "Give me…" Christa took aim and fired, shooting Consuelo right in the head. The woman dropped her machete and fell dead, allowing Carlos to pull himself free of Tom's grip. Bill released Sarah, who collapsed onto the ground like a rag doll.

Tom tried to prepare an arrow for his bow, and Christa shot him in the head. Bill reached for something in his coat, when Carlos's fist shattered the man's jaw, sending him tumbling into the payment. Maude swung her crossbow around at Carlos, allowing Matt to lunge at the older woman. Matt sunk his teeth into her hand, causing the woman to scream out in pain, which ended promptly with a shot to the head.

Nick grabbed Bridget's crossbow with ease, stealing the weapon from her as she was paralyzed by the shock of everything happening. He turned it around and aimed at the girl just as Christa trained her gun on the confused teenager.

"No please don't!" screamed Bridget in terror. "Please don't kill me! Please!" begged a tearful Bridget as she fell to her knees, her hands tightly knitted together as she prayed for mercy. "Please…. Please don't kill me. I…" An arrow pierced Bridget's chest, causing the girl to scream out in pain.

"That's for my brother," commented Matt as he tossed Maude's crossbow aside. "You stuck up bitch." Bridget gripped the arrow with both hands, squealing in pain. She crawled along on her knees towards the outer gate, before collapsing onto the ground. As her squeals of pain diminished, a different blood curdling scream filled the air. Clementine looked over to see Bill lying on his back, his left arm snapped nearly in half, the bones sticking clear out of the skin.

"No, no don't…" croaked Bill in a weak voice as Carlos grabbed Bill's other arm. Clementine watched in disgust as Carlos twisted Bill's arm taut, then snapped it with a vicious stomp of his foot, resulting in another horrible scream. Looking away from the horrible sight, Clementine saw Sarah, lying motionless on the pavement.

"Sarah!" yelled Clementine as she rushed to her friend's body. "Sarah get up!" Clementine looked for any signs of life, but saw none.

"Clementine." Looking back, Clem saw Christa aiming a gun at Sarah. "Get out of the way."

"No!" Clementine positioned herself over Sarah's head, blocking Christa's shot.

"If she's dead, she'll turn and…"

"If she's dead it's your fault!" Clementine's accusation stopped Christa dead in her tracks. "Do something! Help her!" Christa looked down at Clem, then knelt down beside her. She put the gun into Clementine's hand, then pointed the barrel right at Sarah's head.

"If she turns, don't hesitate," instructed a nervous Christa as she eyed a still lifeless Sarah. Christa took a breath, then leaned into close and pressed her lips to Sarah's while pinching her nose. Christa blew air into Sarah's mouth for a few seconds, then placed her hands over the girl's chest and started pushing down on it in a steady rhythm.

A quick series of gunshots rang out. Looking up, Clementine saw Carlos shooting Bill in his legs with what looked like Bill's own gun. Clem watched as Carlos aimed the gun directly between Bill's legs and pulled the trigger twice more, spewing blood onto the pavement and causing Bill to scream in agony, only to be silenced when Carlos smashed the end of the gun into Bill's mouth, breaking several of his teeth.

Unable to watch anymore, Clem looked back at Sarah just as Christa finished blowing more air into her lungs. Christa once again pumped Sarah's chest several times, then moved back to breath for Sarah again, when the girl suddenly twitched her head.

Christa fell over backwards in surprise while Clementine felt her finger instinctively go for the trigger, but then she heard Sarah coughing, which was followed by the girl gasping desperately for air.

"Sarah!" Clementine wrapped her arms around the older girl in relief, pulling her off the ground into a sitting position. "I'm so glad you're alive." Clementine's admission of relief was followed was by a panicked squealing and flailing from Sarah. "What's wrong?" Clem released Sarah, who turned away from something in a hurry. Turning around, Clementine saw what was frightening Sarah.

Carlos was standing over Bill's mutilated corpse. Blood was pouring out of the gunshot wounds on the lower half of his body, both his arms had been twisted into unnatural positions, his teeth were scattered about the pavement, the entire front of his face had been caved into a twisted mess of blood, bone, and brain matter that was constantly reshaped by Carlos's foot as he repeatedly kicked the gory target again and again without pause, splattering bits of Bill across the ground and onto his pant leg.

"Carlos!" Christa's call did nothing to halt Carlos's assault. "Carlos!" Christa grabbed Carlos by the shoulder, who spun around with his fists raised, scaring Christa backwards several steps. Blood was dripping from his finger tips and was soaked into one of his shoes. He was taking slow deep breaths, like a bull getting ready to charge. A crazed look seemingly burned into his eye, until he spotted his daughter sitting on the ground.

"Sarah…" The anger vanished from Carlos's face as he looked at Sarah. "You're alive," he said in a overjoyed voice as he moved towards her. "Thank god…"

"No!" Sarah jerked away from her father as he reached out to her. Carlos looked at the blood on his hands, then simply sighed to himself.

"Can we fucking leave already?" urged Matt as he slid one of the girders loose on the outer gate. "The rest of them are probably on their way and…" An undead Bridget tackled Matt to the ground, the boy started screaming out in terror as he grabbed hold of the arrow sticking out of Bridget's chest.

"Get her off of me!" Clementine raised her gun and put her finger on the trigger. But seeing Matt squirm in terror as Bridget's body slowly slid down the arrow, bringing her gnashing teeth closer to the boy's face, Clem felt an odd satisfaction in watching him suffer, so much so that she lowered her gun, more interested in simply observing his fate.

An arrow pierced Bridget's head, finally halting her attack. Looking over, Clem watched as Nick stood on a piece of the crossbow and quickly pulled the string on it back, before removing one of the arrow's attached to its underside to reload it. Matt pushed Bridget's body off and then scampered back into the outer gate.

"Holy shit," panted the boy. "I'm glad that's over." A loud cashed sounded from the outer gate as it bulged in the middle, knocking Matt off of it. The boy scurried away backwards as the sound of dozens of walkers started slamming against the gate filled the air. "Oh shit." Matt felt something wet by his hand. He looked over and saw he was sitting next to Bill's bloody corpse. "Oh fuck."

Christa grabbed the machete Consuelo dropped and ran to Bridget's body.

"Will it work if the person just turned into a walker?" Christa asked Clem as she approached the girl's corpse.

"I don't know," answered Clementine. "She already smells like one though."

"That'll have to do." Christa plunged the machete into Bridget's stomach and started slicing open her lower abdomen.

"What… what are you doing?" asked a horrified Sarah, her voice sounding strained as she spoke.

"It's how we get past the walkers," informed a sickly Clementine. "We got to smell like them."

"Don't watch sweetheart." Sarah heeded her father's advice and turned away from what was left of Bridget. "Just hold onto this." Carlos scooped the lantern he took off the ground and clipped it onto a belt loop on Sarah's pants. "You get lost, just turn that on, and I'll come to you."

"Here." Christa tossed what Clem thought was part of Bridget's intestines right into her hands. No sooner than that slippery organ touched Clementine's skin than did she remember why she hadn't thought of trying this since she left Savannah. A chill shot up her spine upon feeling that horrible greasy substance in her hands and that rancid stench in her nostrils.

But seeing Nick, Christa and Carlos hastily coat themselves in Bridget's innards spurred Clementine into action. She put her gun down and did her best to ignore the smell. She started rubbing the grotesque substance down the front of her shirt and onto her pant legs.

"Just keep your eyes closed sweetheart." Carlos started smearing Sarah's jacket, causing the girl to shudder.

"Try to breathe through your mouth," instructed a sympathetic Clementine. "And, just try not to think about how gross it is."

"Clem, get her back, I'll get yours." Clem started smearing the back of Sarah's jacket while she felt Carlos moving something wet and gross up and down the back of her own shirt. While covering Sarah, Clem noticed Matt kneeling in front of Bill's corpse. He straightened his shirt, then stood up and turned around.

"The fuck are you people doing?" he asked in utter shock.

"It's how we get past the walkers," informed a grossed out Clem.

"Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief. "I'm not doing that."

"Don't then," snapped Christa. "Stay here and die for all we care." Matt looked at the still bulging gate and rushed over to Bridget's corpse.

"This is not what I meant when I said I'd kill to get my hands on Bridget," grumbled Matt as he started smearing himself.

"Are… are you sure this will work?" asked a nervous Sarah as she looked over to Clementine.

"It'll work," assured Clementine. "But you have to keep quiet. No matter what."

"I'll… I'll try." Sarah turned away from Clem and gasped. Looking up, Clementine saw Sarah was staring at Byron, who had just finished cocking Maude's bow. The two seemed to stare at each other in surprise for a moment, before Byron's look of shock turned to one of betrayal. Clementine reached for her gun while Byron quickly loaded an arrow into the crossbow.

"Freeze!" Clem stopped mid-action, she had her gun in hand, but it was aimed at the ground, and Byron had a loaded crossbow aimed in her direction. "Drop whatever you're holding and slowly raise your hands over your head!" Clementine let her gun hit the pavement, then stood up with all the others. She watched as Bryon was joined by Richard, Harry, Lloyd and George. Richard grabbed Tom's bow and quickly drew back an arrow from Tom's quiver.

"Oh dear lord!" exclaimed a horrified Lloyd.

"Tom, Maude," listed a saddened Byron. "And what the fuck did you do to Bridget?"

"Is… is that Bill over there?" asked Richard in disbelief. "I… I can't make out the face, but that's his coat, so…"

"One of Bill's bright ideas finally caught up with him," surmised an apathetic George. "Oh well." The sound of the gate straining under stress was nearly drowned out by an uneven chorus of moaning and groaning from the undead on the other side.

"Oh shit, those shots we heard must have drawn them right to us," concluded Byron. "All right, all of you, over here!" instructed Byron. "We'll lock them in the back of the truck and…"

"Stay right where you are!" George pulled a revolver from inside his coat and aimed it at the group.

"The fuck are you doing with that?" asked a surprised Byron.

"Kept it around, in case something happened. Like this," answered George. "You people started this, so I'm gonna finish it."

"Finish it?" repeated a shocked Lloyd. "Half of them are kids. The woman has a baby. And…"

"And they all chose this," finished George. "That was their decision."

"Fine," conceded a frightened Byron as he moved towards the edge of one of the inner gates. "Close the gates! We'll…"

"Leave the gates alone," ordered George.

"Are you fucking crazy! We gotta seal the entrance and…"

"We will!" dictated George. "But only after we take care of them."

"George, that's not a good idea," noted Richard, clearly nervous himself. "The gate could go any minute."

"Not any minute. Right now." George aimed his gun at Nick. "You. Open it."

"What?" exclaimed a confused Harry.

"Or you'll shoot him?" mocked a hysterical Byron. "That's a lot better outcome than him opening the damn…" George pointed his gun right at Byron's forehead and cocked the hammer.

"You say one more goddamn word and I'll throw you in there with them!" Byron froze in place, petrified by George's threat. "And I won't shoot you Nick." George slowly aimed his gun back at the group. "I'll shoot all of them." Clementine trembled in fear as George aimed directly at her. "Starting with the girl." Clem watched as George adjusted his aim downward slightly. "And it won't be in the head, or in the heart. It'll be somewhere nice and painful. Where she'll know she's dying, but won't right away." Nick looked to Clementine, the small girl shaking in terror.

"So what's it gonna be?" asked George. "You gonna sit there and watch everyone you know slowly die around you? Or will you man up just long enough to all die together?" Looking up at Nick, Clementine saw the doubt in the young man's eyes. "Well? What's it going to be? Boy?" Clem nodded at Nick, which seemed to give him to assurance he needed. Nick hurried to the gate and started sliding the second girder out.

"Well, I'll be goddamned," commented a bemused George with a slight smile. The sound of metal tearing followed the girder sliding clear of the gate. Nick paused as he looked at the third one. "Go on now." At George's urging, Nick started pulling on the third girder.

"Rich, be ready to close the inner gate as soon as they're dead," instructed a nervous Byron. A second, louder metallic scrapping sound followed the third girder being moved out of place. Nick looked down at the last girder holding the gates together.

"Go on. Your whole pathetic life has been building up to this moment," cackled a delighted George. Nick shot the wicked man a angry look, then turned back to the gate. He reached down for the last girder, when the gates burst open. Everyone instinctively moved away from the flood of dead pouring over each other, only to find George, Byron and Richard aiming right at them.

"Nobody shoot," instructed George in a cold voice. "If one of them comes over here, you throw them right back in." Clementine looked around as walkers crawled and shambled right to her and the others. Looking at the others she saw they were all as frightened as she was, especially Sarah who had covered her mouth with both hands to muffle her screaming.

Clementine watched anxiously as a walker stumbled right up to her, then slid past her without taking notice. A couple strolled past Nick and Christa, a few more moved past Matt and Carlos, and several bumped past Sarah, who was too afraid to even move out of the way. Looking at George, Clementine watched the sadistic glee drain right out of the man, leaving him only with bewilderment.

"What the fuck is going on?" asked Byron in a hushed voice. "Why aren't they biting them?" Clementine noticed her gun on the ground, and carefully moved past a couple of walkers to get it. As she did so, she saw the walkers moving past Bill suddenly gravitate to his corpse, greedily feeding on what was left of the man. "Wait, I think I get it." As Clementine retrieved her gun, she noticed Nick had picked up the crossbow during the confusion, and was now aiming right at a distracted Byron. "They're not biting because…"

"Byron, look out!" Lloyd's call brought Byron back to his senses. Clementine watched as Byron drew his own crossbow, and Nick suddenly jerked his to the right and fired. An arrow struck George directly in the chest, sending the huge man tumbling backwards. He pulled his gun and fired, only managing to shoot the pavement in front of him before dropping the weapon and collapsing onto the ground.

"Seal the gates!" Byron's order was followed by a sudden rush of walkers charging after the sound of the gunshot. Clem watched as the lights from the truck disappeared from view as the gates swung shut, just in time for a couple dozen walkers to throw themselves against it.


	64. The Herd

Clementine struggled to move upstream against the dozens upon dozens of walkers flocking right to Shaffer's walls. She ducked and weaved past one after another, finding herself only making minuscule progress as she had to keep changing directions to avoid running into the walkers. Ducking away from one walker she found herself slamming into another one's legs, causing it to fall forward right on top of her.

Clem felt her heart in throat as she found herself pinned under the walker's body. She closed her eyes and waited for the end, but the walker merely started crawling forward, eventually pulling itself off the small girl. Rolling onto all fours, Clem started crawling herself, trying to navigate out of the path of the dead. Seeing an opening, Clem darted past a few walkers and out of their path of travel.

She stood up and took a few more steps away, looking at the army of dead slamming against Shaffer's walls. Looking towards the gate, the entire loading area was now overflowing with walkers. They didn't seem to be making any progress, at least not yet, but more walkers kept crashing into the ones already pushing on the gates.

As Clem moved further away from Shaffer's, she felt a horrible scratching sensation in her throat. She covered her mouth to cough, but forgot about the gore on her hands. The horrid stench caused Clementine to gag, causing her to cough a few times before throwing up onto the grass. Clem fell to her knees and felt another sick feeling come over her. She tried to suppress the urge, but it was useless and she threw up again.

Looking up, Clementine panicked as she saw a trio of walkers stumbling towards her just a few feet away. She sprung to her feet and ran, turning back to them once she had a distance. Clementine aimed her gun at the walkers, but noticed they weren't following her. They moved past the puddle of vomit and kept lurching forward, cluelessly chasing after a noise they heard.

Taking a breath, Clementine started moving again, following the trail of wayward walkers towards the highway. As she moved, Clem looked around for any signs of the others. As much as she wanted to, Clem dare not call to the others for fear of attracting more walkers. But she found herself more and more worried as she saw no sign of anyone, and then felt hopeless as she saw the highway.

All the dozens upon dozens of walkers streaming towards Shaffer's paled in comparison to the hundreds shuffling across the highway in a disorderly fashion. Looking left Clementine saw a never ending stream of more oncoming dead, and turning to her right she saw the same moving away from her. As Clementine prepared to slip into the stream of traffic, she noticed a light coming from the wooded area to her left.

Moving away from the highway, Clementine went after the odd light. She didn't see it a minute ago, but it was impossible to ignore now. It didn't look like a fire, but it was bright, whatever it was. Moving past a tree, Clementine found the source, Sarah sitting on the ground, her knees pulled her to her chest, her hands covering her mouth, and a lit lantern clipped to her waistline.

"Sarah." The older girl turned to Clem and suddenly looked relieved.

"Clementine." Sarah took her hands away from her mouth and hugged Clementine, who tried to return the hug, but found the smell of being so close to Sarah's gore stained jacket too much to bear. Clem pushed Sarah away before she gagged again.

"I'm sorry," apologized Clem. "But the smell makes me sick."

"I… I don't know where anyone is," informed a frightened Sarah.

"I don't either," said a uneasy Clementine.

"What… what do we do?" whispered an anxious Sarah.

"We…" Clementine thought to herself. "We got to get Saint Christopher's, like Nick said."

"But, there's so many of them," whimpered Sarah. "Can't we just wait?"

"No, then we'll just have to keep following them the whole way," explained Clem. "If we can get ahead of them, like Nick said, we can start running, and then we can get somewhere safe faster."

"But… but…"

"It'll be okay," instructed Clem as calmly as she could. "I've done this before." Despite being true, Clementine felt her voice faltering as she said that.

"My dad said he'd find me," said Sarah.

"He might already be ahead of us," reasoned Clementine. "But if he's not, he'll see the light like I did and come to you." Sarah slowly stood up. Clementine looped her arm around the older girl's arm and tightened her grip on her gun.

"Just stay close to me." Clementine started leading Sarah out of the woods and towards the highway. Upon seeing the road again, Clem found the sight of hundreds of walkers wandering forward no less intimidating. "Just… just keep quiet," whispered Clementine. "And they won't notice you." Sarah put her free hand over her mouth. Clementine took a deep breath and pulled Sarah into the road.

Unlike the pile up at Shaffer's gate, the dead on the highway were far more spread out, allowing Clementine to more easily move between them, even with Sarah staying close to her side. With great care, Clementine navigated forward through the herd, easily outpacing the walkers and pulling further ahead.

Despite the good pace they were maintaining, Clementine couldn't see any end to the herd in sight. For every dozen walkers they passed there seemed to be at least a dozen more ahead of them. Clementine kept pushing forward, hoping to find an end soon, or possibly one of the others.

As they were walking, Clementine suddenly heard a loud bang. Turning towards the sound, Clem saw a brilliant flash of blue and white light in the sky and realized she was looking at fireworks. It must have been Shaffer's, trying to create a distraction. As Clem was distracted by the sight of the explosion, a walker distracted by the sound bumped right into the two girls.

Sarah yelped in surprise, but her hand muffled the sound. A tense Clementine drew her gun at the walker, but it merely stumbled past the girls and fell onto the ground, where it started crawling after the noise. Looking around, Clementine watched as most of the walkers ahead of her started turning around and started moving back the way they came.

After watching a couple of more walkers move past her, Clementine started forward again, slowly dodging walkers before steadily returning to her original pace. Once again Clementine found herself wondering if she'd ever see an end to the stream of the dead. Even with them moving against the flow now, it seemed like no matter how fast they went, they were never making any progress. As they moved, Clementine felt a familiar scratching sensation her throat.

"Oh no," Clem whispered to herself as she came to a stop. She was already holding her gun, and even if she wasn't both her hands were still covered in gore.

"What happened?" Clementine looked up at Sarah and saw a solution.

"Sarah, cover my mouth," whispered Clem.

"What why?" whispered Sarah.

"I have to cough, and I…" Clementine felt the urge grow stronger, forcing her to stifle a cough the best she could. But this just resulted in her having to cough even more. A sense of panic swept over Clem as she couldn't control herself. She started to hack, when Sarah covered Clementine's mouth. Sarah's firm grip muffled Clementine's coughing fit. The pair looked around in fear, afraid one of the walker's would hear them.

"Are you done?" Clem nodded in response to Sarah, who took her hand off Clem's face.

"Thanks," whispered a relived Clementine. Yet again, the pair started moving forward. After a few minutes of zigging and zagging forward, Clementine noticed the herd was becoming less dense. Another minute and Clem found herself able to move a little faster as there was plenty of space to move around. She still saw more walkers ahead, but there was less and less of them with each step.

Before long there was only a couple of walkers every ten feet or so. Clementine started easing up a little, confident they were nearly ahead of the herd now. There was another loud bang, and looking over her shoulder, Clementine saw another beautiful fireworks display. But as she was looking at the display, Clem suddenly felt Sarah try to pull free from her grip.

"Dad!" Clementine tightened her grip on Sarah and made a shushing sound. She quickly scanned the area, making sure none of the walkers were close enough to hear that, then turned to Sarah.

"You have to keep quiet," said Clem as sternly as she could while whispering.

"I saw my dad," whispered Sarah back.

"You're sure?" asked Clem.

'Yes. I saw his shirt when the fireworks lit up the road, he's up ahead. I'm sure of it."

"Okay, but we have to keep quiet," reminded Clem. "Don't run ahead and don't yell. If he's up there, we'll catch up to him."

"Oh.. okay," agreed an anxious Sarah. Clem started moving ahead again, trying to move faster now, both for Sarah's sake and for her own in hopes of getting away from the herd faster. As they moved up, Clem saw a man in a familiar flannel shirt far off in the distance, and he wasn't moving like a walker.

"That's him," whispered an anxious Sarah.

"Just stay calm," reminded Clem. "We'll be there in a minute." Clementine picked up the pace, even from behind, she was close enough to see it was definitely Carlos. He was maintaining a pretty quick pace himself, making it hard to catch up, but gradually Clementine and Sarah started closing the gap. Clementine could feel Sarah's grip on her arm tightening as they neared Carlos. They were about thirty feet away now, watching Carlos cruise past a downed walker, which suddenly lunged at the man's ankle.

"Dad!" Sarah's cry was followed by Carlos yelling out in pain from the bite, immediately bringing a walker on his left towards him, which lunged and bit Carlos's arm, causing him to call out in pain again. "No!"

"Sarah don't!" Clementine felt Sarah pull free from her grip just as a third walker stumbled over to Carlos as he was fighting off the first two while yelling in pain. It bit his shoulder, just as the first one attacked his leg again, causing him to stumble and fall onto his back.

"Dad!" screamed Sarah as she sprinted forward. She tried to reach her father, only to come to a sudden stop as a couple of walkers moved in front of her. Sarah froze in place as they stumbled towards her, moving after the noise they just heard. The petrified girl looked on in horror as the two corpses loomed over her, then watched them drop dead from a pair of gunshots.

Clementine lowered her gun and started running after Sarah. The walkers that were attacking Carlos were now moving towards the gunshot. Sarah started backing away, allowing Clementine to finally catch up with the older girl. Seeing the walkers still lurching towards the pair, Clem took aim and fired. One after another, she landed each shot, killing all three before they could close the gap. Sarah sprinted forward towards where Carlos was laying on the ground.

"Dad!" yelled Sarah as she approached her father.

"Sarah don't!" yelled Clem as she tried to catch up. "If he died he'll be walker!" Sarah didn't listen and knelt down by Carlos.

"Dad, get up," she begged in a pitiable voice. Clementine started coughing as she reached Sarah's side. Looking down at Carlos, Clementine found herself sickened by the sight. His shoulder had been ripped apart, his stomach a sickening mixture of torn fabric and torn flesh, one of his arms had been mauled down to the bone, and there was blood everywhere, on Carlos and on the ground.

"Sarah, we have to go!" pleaded a desperate Clementine.

"We can't leave him," sobbed a hysterical Sarah. "Dad get up, you have to get up."

"Sarah… he's dead," informed a reluctant Clementine.

"No, no, no, no!" chanted Sarah as she covered her ears, tears streaming down her face. Looking up, Clementine saw another walker approaching from the front. She shot it, then scanning the area, saw another right behind her. She fired again, putting it down. But beyond it were nearly a dozen more in the distance, all marching towards where Clem was standing.

"Daddy," moaned Sarah as she put her hands on her father's shoulders. "Get up…" she insisted as she attempted to shake him awake.

"Sarah!" Clementine tried to pull the older girl away from her father, but she easily shrugged Clem off.

"Please," begged a despondent Sarah. "Please get up." A low moan came from Carlos. "Daddy?" Seeing the group of walkers behind them grow closer, Clementine did the only thing she could think of. She aimed her gun at Carlos's head, and fired. The bullet splattered the man's brains over the pavement, right in front of his daughter.

"Sarah… I'm sorry, but.."

"Nooo!" shrieked Sarah at the top of her lungs. "Daddy!"

"We have to go!" dictated a panicked Clementine. "We…" Sarah shoved Clementine aside and started running forward. "Sarah, wait!" Clementine stood up and started running after Sarah. She could hear the older girl crying hysterically as she ran. Clementine ran as fast as she possibly could, but Sarah kept pulling further ahead, eventually only visible by the light from the lantern on her waistband.

"Sarah stop!" screamed Clementine. "Sarah, don't…" Clem's lungs ached as she felt another coughing fit come on. She started hacking while gasping for air. She coughed so hard it threw off her balance and she fell onto the hard asphalt, her gun tumbling out of her hand.

Clementine hastily stood up, still coughing as she searched for any signs of walkers. Finding none, she quickly crawled over to her gun and grabbed it. Standing up, Clementine looked down the road for any sign of Sarah, but found none, not even the distant light from the lantern anymore.

"Sarah!" yelled Clementine as loud as she could. There was no answer, nor did Clementine see any sign of the older girl. "Christa!" called Clementine. "Nick!" Looking around, Clementine couldn't see any signs of life, anywhere. "Any… anyone?"


End file.
